


The Anonymity of Watching From Afar

by hedgehogkween



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Canon, Drama, Gen, Historical Hetalia, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 05:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7494870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgehogkween/pseuds/hedgehogkween
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The United States of America is a strong and thriving country, but Alfred lives his life invisible to the other nations. He grows up alone and apart from them, and after several centuries he's built a life in which he can observe them in secret and safety. Despite the warnings of his government, however, his curiosity drives him to get close enough to attract their attention, whether he wants it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Even as the city that never slept, mornings in New York City were always something spectacular to Alfred. He could feel the people beginning to slowly rise from sleep as he had himself much earlier, and begin to flow through the streets like blood through the chambers of the great city’s heart. When he closed his eyes, he could even feel it beating.  
Alfred thought of his own heart as he bit into his first Egg McMuffin of the day. His health was dictated by the state of his economy, but he wondered sometimes if eating so much crappy food would do to him what it did to his people. Maybe that was why he’d gained so much weight in the past century? Either way, with a metabolism like his he needed all the calories he could get, and walking around the city gave him all the exercise he needed. Thus, his Egg McMuffin disappeared within minutes. As he was opening up his first box of pancakes, however, his gaze wandered across the street and came to rest on one of his favorite buildings in the city. A structure of sky-colored glass that slowly came to life as the sun rose behind it. Already people were filing inside, including a veritable cornucopia of different accents from people who looked far too young to be politicians.

  
“Wonder what those guys are up to...” He chuckled through a bite of syrup-soggy pancake. Alfred knew the answer to that question very well: it was why he had purchased five pounds of McDonald’s breakfast items and hunkered down half an hour before they would arrive; it was the reason he kept such a close eye on his calendar and set his phone to remind him of the date; it was the reason that today the heart of a city would beat just a little faster as he watched all those familiar faces slowly make their way inside. Today, there was a meeting.

  
If he looked and listened carefully, he could make out their faces and voices. There was a blond, stern-faced man scolding a small brunette at his side. He didn’t look even half finished with what he had to say when the shorter of the two managed to stop him by guilt alone. By the time they reached the door, the brunette was happily hanging on his arm again. He knew them to be Germany and Italy.

  
A big man in an even bigger coat followed them. Why he wore such a thing in warm weather, Alfred had no idea, but even from across the street he could see him loosening the pale pink scarf around his neck. He looked far too hot to be comfortable. Maybe he was used to dressing for the cold at home? This was Russia, if he remembered correctly, so he could only imagine that it had to be the case. For his sake, he hoped the building had good air conditioning.

  
One small, dark-haired man walked quietly and alone. A few others walked a ways ahead of or behind him. To Alfred, this man was Japan. To Japan, Alfred was a boy he’d run into once outside of the building who had asked him for directions. It would be a wonder if he remembered his face. Alfred knew him quite well, however, and when China sped up a bit to speak with him he couldn’t help his smile. Japan had always seemed a bit timid to him, it was a wonder that he spoke to anyone at all.

  
Then a large group of blondes showed up- the meetings always seemed so full of them that he liked to think of it as ‘fifty shades of blonde.’ This was a group of six, whom he knew to be the mostly-happy family of the Nordics. He always imagined himself getting along well with the loud one, they always seemed similar save for the fact that… well, Alfred’s country was much larger. It didn’t seem like a kind thing to point out.

  
A different pair of blondes stole his attention next. A long-faced yet smiling man with sweet golden curls, walking alongside Alfred’s brother. At least, he always liked to imagine that he was his brother. They shared such a likeness, he felt like he was looking in a mirror as he watched him. A part of him wondered how alike they were. He wouldn’t know, he’d never spoken to him before. He did envy his brother, however, as he watched France stop to give him a tight hug before they went their separate ways. They had always been so close, he was a little jealous that he’d never been like that with his fatherland. Where was England anyway? It was possible that he got lost in the sea of blondes, but Alfred was usually so good at picking him out.

  
“Pardon me, do you have the time?” Alfred glanced up. Oh, there he was. Deep green eyes, sandy hair, freckle-dusted cheeks, and a small, expectant frown. He’d never had the chance to see them so close before. Alfred swore he felt his heart stop. What could he do in that moment? He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to leap up and grab ahold of him, he wanted to embrace him like he had been wanting too for the past hundred years. Despite what he had been told by his superiors, every fiber of his being was aching to let loose his secret and say those three liberating words: ‘I am America.’

  
“I-I’m…” He barely caught himself. England was still staring at him, looking one part confused and two parts impatient. If he kept him waiting forever, he’d probably just walk away. Who knew when he’d get another chance to talk to him. “I, um… I’m sorry, I don’t know.” Of course, England looked disappointed.

  
“Alright, sorry for troubling you lad.” He sighed, continuing on his way towards the nearest crosswalk. Alfred let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. There he went, an opportunity wasted. There were so many things he wanted to say to him, so many questions he had to ask, and he had asked none of them. Now Arthur was walking off across the street to be met by France, who instantly soured his mood. Still, they seemed more amiable towards one another with every passing day. To think, his longtime enemy was closer to him than his own former colony.

  
Alfred slumped in his seat, stuffing half of his hashbrowns into his mouth. “What am I so upset for? This is the same way things have always been…” he muttered. Ever since he was small, he’d been hiding from them. He’d been afraid at first. Wouldn’t anyone be, when strange people showed up in their home and started to ruin things? He had only come forward to his own government in the past hundred years, and they had advised him to continue keeping his existence a secret. It was safer that way, they said. There were a lot of people who would want to harm him. Besides, with the other nations considering the States to be neutral ground, the US got to have that big, shiny building that all the other nations were currently disappearing into. They could keep a close eye on them there. The only other time he had met England’s gaze was through a security video feed.

  
Maybe it was for the best? He would have liked to have some friends that he wouldn’t outlive, but every time he came and watched them gather to meet, they all looked perfectly happy. His presence would be a change, perhaps not for the better. Who knew if he would be welcomed? Who knew if he was even wanted? Alfred sighed and tried to push those thoughts from his head. They were making him lose his appetite.

  
Only after all the other nations were safely inside did he find that his breakfast trays and wrappers were empty. He stuffed everything into the bag he’d brought it in and stood, stretching his arms. “Maybe it really is for the best…” He glanced across the street. There was a garbage can on the corner, not far from the entrance. Maybe if he was already on the other side, he could work up enough courage to approach the others by their lunch break…


	2. Chapter 2

_The forest had always been quiet. Oftentimes Alfred could lay on his back in the middle of the meadow and sleep away a sunny afternoon. The long grass was his blanket, the wildflowers his pillow, and the breeze was the gentle touch that later roused him from his sleep. The forest was a home with great, ancient trees to climb and sloping hills to roll down and babbling streams to drink from. For as long as Alfred had lived in a physical form he had lived there, utterly unconcerned by how he appeared to outsiders. His dirty-blonde hair matted to his head and stuck to his face, and his tan was indistinguishable from the caked-on dirt that covered him from head to toe. He did have clothes, but they had long since gone from their once crisp, clean white to a dark, dingy brown- and various other colors where they’d been stained with blood or food._

_At the moment, however, his little nightgown had been cleaned to a mere light brown color. His ‘tan’ had been scrubbed away by a soft cloth and even softer hands. For the first time since he couldn’t remember when, he could make out the blonde color of his nicely brushed hair now that it neatly framed his face rather than merely hanging off of it. At the same time, his belly was full and his feet didn’t ache. He had slept well, for once aided not by the chilling whisper of the forest night but a warm voice and a bedtime story. But when the morning came, he wriggled out from under the blanket that had been so gently tucked around him and took his nightgown from the clothes line. He couldn’t stay with them forever. He didn’t want to._

_The forest wasn’t quiet anymore. There had been people there before, of course, but these people were different. They weren’t as gentle with his forest as they were with him, and as he watched them he found that they weren’t so kind to the people who had always been there either. Why they were kind to him he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t like it. He didn’t like being singled out and treated differently, even if he was being treated better, it wasn’t right. That was why he hid from them. That was why he couldn’t, wouldn’t stay with them._

_“I swear, he was right around here when we found him!” Alfred lowered his head when he heard their voices. This was the blonde, soft-faced man who had brushed his hair and scrubbed his face. He had been following him from between the trees ever since they had started to look for him. “It was a cute little kid, all by himself. We’ve seen him a couple of times now. Nobody knows him from the villages, and the neighboring towns are at least a day’s walk away!”_

_“What, do you think somebody lost a child?” This voice was new. Alfred carefully peered out, trying to catch a glimpse of the person he hadn’t met. Tall, long-faced yet smiling, with sweet golden curls framing a pale face. If it weren’t for their voice he might not have known that this was a man. “Maybe he just wandered back to his family, Finland. You said so yourself, he was just a little thing, maybe his parents came along and picked him up.”_

_“Or maybe he’s still wandering around as we speak.” Another new voice. Alfred tried to keep his head low in the bushes. This man was a little more intimidating than the others. He wasn’t any more threatening, and he certainly wasn’t any bigger, but he didn’t smile like the long-faced man did. His choppy blonde hair did nothing to conceal his dark gaze, and eyes as green and ancient as the forest surrounding them seemed to pick apart the trees, searching for something-- for him. “I’ve been thinking, all of this isn’t exactly unfamiliar, isn’t it? A small boy wandering around in fields and forests all by himself? Seems a bit strange for a human child… do you suppose he might be one of us?”_

_“Oh!” The eyes of the soft-faced man- the one called ‘Finland’- flew wide open. “I hadn’t considered that possibility!”_

_“If that is the case, we’re going to have to find him quickly.”_

_“And even if it isn’t, we should find a way to return the boy to wherever he belongs.” The long faced man spoke again, wandering slowly closer to Alfred’s hiding place. Out of fear of being seen he didn’t run, only lowering himself further into the brush. “It is possible that he’s got family in one of the villages and they just haven’t come forward yet. Or perhaps something happened to them…” Alfred frowned at that. He wished that a family would come forward for him, even if it wasn’t his own family. He wasn’t even sure if he had a family._

_“Well, wherever this boy belongs, we should definitely focus on finding him.” The green-eyed man spoke again. “I don’t know about you France, but I’m looking forward to having another little colony to bring home…”_

_“What are you talking about?” The long-faced man- ‘France?’- raised an eyebrow, never losing his little smirk. “It could very well still be mine. I’ll bet you that little boy looks just like me. I’ll bet he has my eyes!”_

_“Ooh, the poor thing…” The green-eyed man seemed to find this funny. France did not. His smile vanished in a huff and a nasty scowl._

_“Well, I am going to continue searching over that way, England.” France started off in the opposite direction, back the way they had come. The soft-faced man hurried after him. “When I find the child, I might allow you to lay eyes on him for long enough to see that he’s rightfully mine.”_

_“Good luck!” The green-eyed man- definitely called ‘England’- spat back, watching them go. Under his breath he added a small word Alfred didn’t quite hear, something like ‘tosser,’ but he wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound very nice._

_If anything had come out of this, it was that he knew their names now; Finland, France, and England. They were all very odd names to him, and he had heard plenty of odd names before, but none like that. Not as names of people, at least.. He was sure he’d heard them all before at some point…_

_“Must be around here somewhere…” England muttered. “I swear, they just said they’d seen him. Someone ought to take care of him…” Alfred could hear his boots crunching through the leaves, slowly drawing nearer to him. He didn’t want to be caught, if he had to run then now was the time to do it, but he couldn’t seem to make his legs move. He tried to move his arms to crawl away, but he couldn’t get them to budge either. He was stuck, and England was still coming closer. In an instant he was standing over the bush, staring down at him with an awful grin on his face._

_“Well, pardon me, young man…” he chuckled. Alfred froze, staring up at him in horror. He was as good as caught. Was he stuck in some sort of trap?_

“Young man?”

_Alfred tried again to move. His arm shifted just a little, but he wasn’t sure whether he was the one moving it or something else was moving him. Was he already losing that much control of himself just by coming into contact with these people?_

“Excuse me!” Alfred jolted from his sleep. When had he even dozed off? He remembered crossing the street and throwing his trash away. He had checked in with security- most of the American government personnel knew who he was, so they let him through without question- and found somewhere he could sit and watch the others when they left for their lunch break. Perhaps he had gotten a little more comfortable than he meant to. It seemed like just minutes ago that he was brushing off a spot on a short concrete wall to sit on, and now a little ways away he could see the other nations filing out, chatting to each other. He could even see a couple of them glance towards him, although he had earned the undivided attention of one pair of sharp, green eyes. England was even closer now than he had been the last time, leaning in to make sure he was okay.

“Wh-what?” he blinked a few times, trying not to panic. “Uh, sorry, I didn’t quite catch that…”

“I can tell.” England gave him a dry smile. “Sorry to wake you, young man, but I don’t believe you’re allowed to sleep there.”

“I’m not…” Alfred trailed off. Of course he wasn’t. To England, he was just some random kid who decided to sit his stupid ass down somewhere he wasn’t supposed to. Again the temptation to spill out his big secret and pull England into his arms stirred in him, but he hurried to fight it back down.

“Oh, uh, right. Right! Sorry Eng— er, sir.” Had he really almost done that? What would England say if he called him by his true title? Alfred hadn’t told anyone outside of his own government who he was, so he could only assume that it was a big secret for everyone. Hell, he was afraid to meet England’s eyes again after that little slip-up. When he finally could, he was surprised to see that England didn’t look so much startled or hostile as he did mildly amused.

“You know who I am then?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I thought I had already met all of the staff here. I like to know the people who are protecting our national secrets… oh, where are my manners?”

Alfred didn’t realize what he was doing until he found England’s outstretched hand in front of him. His eyes followed the arm up, and he tried to take in as much as he could. Odd, England seemed smaller now than he had in his memories. Maybe it was just because he had been much smaller at the time, but he had always imagined England as a strong and dignified figure, a man every bit as intimidating as the once grand empire had been, but he was actually fairly small. Even Alfred had a few inches on him, as he found when he finally mustered up the courage to take his hand and be helped up. England smiled- _smiled_ \- at him and took the chance to shake his hand.

“Have you got a name, lad?” Alfred blinked. His name. England was asking for his name. Getting to shake his hand was more than enough for him, he’d been so afraid that England would magically know who he was the moment their hands touched, he was hesitant to give him any more information than he had to. Then again, England was asking him personally for his name. When would he ever get a chance like this again?

“My name? Y-yeah, yeah, it’s uh…Alfred!” Alfred put on a grin. “Alfred F. Jones.”

“What does the F stand for?”

“F-Freedom.” Alfred instantly quieted. It was a name he’d chosen in the heat of revolutionary fervor, having been thrown into the midst of radical ideas and brash decisions. He had been so caught up in the thrill of fighting for justice and liberty and freedom and all of those other grand, high-minded ideals that he had made one of them part of his name. He had since realized how silly it was, of course, and usually he had the sense to say something like ‘Foster’ or ‘Fitzgerald’ instead. Usually. Regardless of what he meant to say, England looked utterly unimpressed with what had actually come out of his mouth. It had been a long time since something so small had made him feel like such an idiot.

“Alfred Freedom Jones?” England repeated back to him, eyebrows raised. “What a very American-sounding name you have, mister Jones.”

“Yeah…” Alfred lowered his gaze to the ground. So much for first impressions. “I, er, picked it myself…”

“You picked out your own name?”

“I--” Alfred could have kicked himself. “Uh, yeah, I um, I got a name change a little while back.”

“A name change?” England furrowed his eyebrows. “Don’t those cost money?”

“Yeah.”

“You paid money to have your name changed to that?” he muttered. Alfred almost couldn’t blame him for looking so skeptical. By the time the name change process had made it to his country, he had long since realized what a stupid name he had given himself. It was the reason he went by ‘Alfred F. Jones’ in the first place. “…I’ll never understand kids these days.” England sighed and looked away.

Still hoping to salvage the conversation, Alfred racked his brain for something more to say. He had just opened his mouth to speak when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Mister Jones.” Alfred looked, and England looked with him. It was one of the security personnel. “Mister Jones, you’re needed on the third floor.”

“Oh…” Alfred bit his lip. “Is it, uh, important?”

“It’s from the boss, mister Jones.”

“Shit, uh…” He looked up at England. It didn’t surprise him that the appearance of a security member come to fetch him personally had piqued his interest, but before Alfred could say anything he was being led away. He managed little more than an apologetic grin before he was dragged inside the great glass building. England was left alone, standing and watching the door where Alfred had just been.

“Who on earth was that?” England looked up. He had been joined again by the long-faced, golden-haired man, who looked on with tidy disinterest and a fraction of a smile.

“That, France, was a mister Alfred Freedom Jones, apparently.” He replied, crossing his arms over his chest. France scoffed and looked after him.

“An American name if I’ve ever heard one.”

“That’s just what I was thinking…” France looked down at him. England was still staring at the door. His small, polite smile had disappeared. “There’s something peculiar about him.”

“What, aside from that name?”

“Yes, aside from the name. It sounded like something he made up on the spot, and he was acting very strange. How many young people like _that_ do you see being escorted by government personnel into private, government buildings?”

“It does sound a little odd, when you put it like that…” France glanced around. Most of the others were heading off, but nobody said anything to the two of them. “But he looked like an ordinary young man. What are you going to do, invite him to dinner?” France laughed and tucked a bit of hair behind his ear. It took him a few seconds to realize that England wasn’t laughing, nor was had he said no. “Are you?”

“I’m considering it…” England mumbled. France’s eyes widened.

“Well, if it’s that important to you, then don’t think you can stop me from going with you.” England looked up at him, frowning, but not ready to fight him. “If you let me pick someplace nice, I’ll even pick up the tab.”

“Very well, you can tag along.” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “But you’re going to have to help me do a little research. I’m afraid I didn’t get an awful lot of information about our mister Alfred Freedom Jones…”


	3. Chapter 3

Years of living alone and greatly isolated from others did not help Alfred’s experience in fine dining. People didn’t often invite him out, and he didn’t really have any friends of his own to invite out. Heck, he had to go out shopping with his boss’s daughters just to get something flattering- and clean- to wear for this particular outing. The new dress shirt and tie he wore were likely the nicest pieces of clothing he owned, aside from his Sunday best, but he wasn’t about to wear those clothes to go on a first date.

Admittedly, this wasn’t the way he thought he would go on his first date of the century. He had- despite past experiences- expected to fall head-over-heels for a pretty human lady, or for a human lady to fall for him. In this case, he could only assume that this was the latter; after being thoroughly chewed out by one of his boss’s subordinates about national security and how important it was that he remained a secret, he had come home to find a note on his front door. Normally he wouldn’t have listened to a mysterious note asking him to meet its writer somewhere unusual at a specific time the following evening, but it didn’t seem particularly threatening. The note itself was lovely, written in deep blue ink and elegant, calligraphic cursive, inviting him to meet them at a fancy restaurant he knew only by reputation. If his mystery dinner guest was half as enchanting as their invitation, he figured he was in for a real treat. Besides, they had offered to pay for dinner.

So here he was, dressed in the nicest thing he had worn since the Christmas church service and waiting in one of the fanciest restaurants he’d ever been to. It was a beautiful place, with crystal chandeliers and pretty music, and decent portions from what he had seen being taken to other tables. In letting his gaze wander a bit he happened to notice a clock on the far wall of the restaurant. The time read a quarter to seven. Hadn’t his date told him six-thirty?

“Oh, here he is!” A familiar voice, a chuckle, and a hand on his shoulder. Alfred’s gaze was ripped from the clock and focused on the person speaking. There was a friendly smile, freckle-dusted cheeks, but all he needed to see were those startling green eyes. He was glad now that he hadn’t taken another breadstick, he was sure he would have choked on it from the shock alone. The man gave his shoulder a pat and took a seat opposite him, along with yet another man Alfred hadn’t gotten to speak to before. He knew who he was, of course, but he had yet to be introduced.

“E-England?” Alfred decided it would be best to speak to him first. The elder nation perked up, giving Alfred his undivided attention- if only to shush him.

“I beg your pardon, Alfred,” he cut in. “I would prefer if you not call me that name here. Walls have ears and all… can’t be too careful.”

“Oh, uh, of course… sir.” Alfred straightened up. If anyone knew about this sort of security, it was him, but Arthur couldn’t know that. Arthur relaxed again with that out of the way, his serene smile returning.

“No need to be so formal. We do have names to use for occasions like these.”

“Oh, do you?” Alfred looked up at him. Names that nations used to pass as humans? What a novel concept!

“You may call me Arthur. Arthur James Kirkland, if anyone asks, but they shouldn’t.” Arthur chuckled and looked over to his companion. The man took it as his cue to introduce himself, leaning around and offering Alfred a hand to shake.

“Francis Marius Bonnefoy.” The man gave Alfred a big smile as he took his hand. “Et toi?”

“Uh, I’m Alfred. Great to meet you.” Alfred sincerely hoped his hands weren’t trembling as much as he felt like they were as he shook Francis’s hand. This was the absolute last thing he had expected from his mystery date. He wasn’t even allowed to be talking to these people, let alone going out to dinner with them! What would his boss say if he found out where he was? Hell, what would the other nations say if they found out _what_ he was? He didn’t know which of those things sounded scarier. Then again, it was awfully tempting to stay and talk to them a bit. He had a thousand questions to ask them about just about everything, and he was still very hungry. “I didn’t expect to see you guys here…”

“It was a bit of a surprise, wasn’t it?” Arthur glanced over at Francis. “I’m sorry if it was a little last-minute, so rude of me, but we aren’t going to be in town for very long and I wanted to be sure I’d get to see you again. You’re…” Arthur paused a moment, his pointed gaze raking Alfred over like a hunter’s claws digging into its prey. “…you’re a fascinating young man, I must admit.” That alone was setting off red flags in Alfred’s head. Did they know? God, what had he done to give himself away?! He was already getting a horrid sinking feeling in his gut, but he knew he couldn’t leave, not yet. If Arthur didn’t know what he was, then there was no way he’d get this chance again. He had to enjoy it while it lasted. “I hope we didn’t disrupt any plans of yours?”

“What?” Alfred blinked back to reality. It took him a moment to process that Arthur had asked a question. “Oh, no, no way dude! I didn’t really have any plans. I mean, I have like, no friends, so…” he trailed off. He didn’t realize the implications of what he’d just said until he looked up and saw the odd looks Arthur and Francis were giving him; they looked surprised, even a bit sympathetic.

“You don’t have any friends at all?” Francis asked. “That’s a shame, you seem like such a nice young man.” Alfred diverted his gaze. He did try to be a nice young man, but he didn’t want to make anymore friends. At least, no more human friends. He had long since grown weary of going to funerals.

“I guess I’m not very good at making friends or something…” he shrugged. “I, uh, I don’t get out much… but I do have plenty of time for like, work, so that’s good.” Sometimes he wished he had work to fill his time. He had gotten jobs before, but they were often short-lived. The last place he had been at closed after just a few years.

“You work at the UN building, don’t you?” Arthur asked. “What is it exactly that you do there?”

“Uh…” Alfred bit his lip. “I’m with er, security.”

“Oh, so you patrol the building and things?”

“You could say that…” Alfred scratched the back of his hand. He would often find a way to get into the building’s security system on his phone and watch the meetings that way, if he thought of it. He probably would have done it during yesterday’s meeting too if he hadn’t dozed off. “Sometimes I go by the meeting room where you guys are. I mean, it’s not like I pay super close attention or anything, I just check in sometimes when you guys happen to be meeting and catch little bits and pieces…” If by ‘little bits and pieces’ he meant ‘all of the little bits and pieces,’ then it wasn’t exactly a lie. He had yet to miss a single one of their meetings, and not even something as crazy as a war or an alien invasion could stop him from attending from the shadows.

“Well…” Arthur frowned, seeming to stiffen as he spoke. “It’s not really something that people are supposed to--” Arthur stopped and looked up. A waitress had come to take their drink orders. Francis had been kind enough to suggest something from the wine menu, looking to Alfred with a small smile.

“Do you drink, Alfred?” he asked, showing him the menu. “Which one of these looks good to you?” Alfred merely stared at the menu. They all looked about the same to him, all long, French-looking names with lengthy descriptions about ingredients and flavors that would likely all taste the same to him anyway. He had never really had wine before, and he wasn’t really supposed to be drinking anyway, but it was so tempting to just forget his usual false age of nineteen and let the pair seduce him into drinking with them. Besides, who knew if he’d ever get this chance again?

“I, uh… Not gonna lie, I don’t know much about wine.” Alfred tried to laugh it off. Somehow, he was lucky enough to have Francis chuckle along with him.

“That’s alright, I can pick out something special for us. Nothing too alcoholic, this one can’t handle it.” Francis gestured towards Arthur, earning himself a kick under the table. Arthur straightened up a little, letting Francis order for them. After a moment or two of pouting, his attention shifted back to Alfred.

“So, Alfred…” He cleared his throat and started again. “How old are you exactly?” Always with the hard questions. Alfred knew that even half a second’s hesitation would kill him with a question like that. He took at least three.

“I’m uh, nineteen… and a half.”

“Nineteen and a half?” Francis piped in, a little surprised. “Isn’t the legal age to drink in the states twenty-one?” Alfred mentally kicked himself. He knew he didn’t even look close to the legal age, even at his great age of technically just under three-hundred he didn’t look a day over nineteen.

“I, um…”

“Relax, Francis,” Arthur hurriedly dismissed his concern. “Nobody asked, and we don’t have to tell. Let’s not be unkind and deprive the poor boy. I’m sure it’s not the first time our dear guest has ever had a drink?” He smiled at Alfred, expecting his agreement but getting little more than a nod.  Arthur sat back a little, talking only to Francis. “Besides, there isn’t anyone here in the States to enforce that law for people like us. We can bend the rules for this boy…”

They were going to break his law. Barely a few days in his country and his city, and they were ‘bending’ his laws, letting someone underage drink. If he weren’t so concerned about losing their favor, he might have insisted on not drinking.

“What do you mean, nobody will enforce it?” Alfred asked, playing innocent for the moment. Arthur raised an eyebrow, but leaned in a bit to talk to Alfred.

“Well, you see… you know what we are, Alfred, and you’re a smart boy. Usually, if we go to someone else’s country- the country of someone like us- we leave it up to them to enforce their rules.”

“Oh…” Alfred frowned. As much as he wanted it to make sense, it didn’t feel right. He was quiet, thinking carefully about what he could say in response before he spoke again. “Well… won’t your, uh, ‘America’ be mad at you?” he asked. Silence. Alfred dared a glance up at the two. Arthur’s small smile was steadily fading away. Francis looked like he’d been punched in the gut. “I mean, you aren’t worried about upsetting your America…?”

“I’d be more worried if such a person existed.” Arthur muttered. “Hard to upset someone who isn’t real... Alfred, I’m not sure if you noticed or not, but there is no America. There never has been one, and there probably never will be, so we don’t have to worry.” There was a hard certainty in his voice, but anyone could see that Arthur wasn’t angry; he was distraught. Francis sat up a little straighter, discreetly putting an arm around his friend. “I would know, I’ve been looking for over three-hundred years…”

Francis glanced up at the stricken-looking Alfred. “You’ll have to forgive him…” Francis mustered up a weak smile and placed his hand over Arthur’s. “The topic of Amérique has always been rather sensitive with us. We’d rather not go into it…”

“Of course, of course.” Alfred kept his voice a bit quiet to hide the way it quavered. “I won’t press you for details. Sounds really personal…” If it was possible to feel one’s heart breaking, then he would have been able to label the horrid aching in his chest. They had been looking for him. They wanted him to be found and to join them and to be a part of what they were. Even better, Arthur had been looking for him the whole time, wondering when he would appear, dreaming of and praying for him to come forward just as much as Alfred had been dreaming and praying for a chance to do so. He could only hope that Arthur hadn’t really given up looking for America. He felt horrible seeing the way Arthur suffered for it, it made him feel guilty for being afraid of them for so long and even more so for hiding even after he knew what they were. “I-I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry, Alfred.” Alfred swore he almost jumped in his seat, startled by the voice across the table. Arthur still didn’t quite meet his gaze, his eyes set on the table. “You couldn’t have known, and it isn’t your fault… who knows, maybe there is an America out there somewhere.” Arthur’s lips tugged in a slight smile. Alfred tried to relax a little into his seat, legs crossed under the table. He didn’t even realize that Arthur was looking at him again until he happened to glance over and meet his gaze. Arthur could grin all he want, but Alfred was certain that pretending to joke about it was killing him on the inside. “I don’t suppose you know where our America is?”

“I--” Alfred had to cut himself off. He wasn’t sure if he was about to laugh, scream, or cry, but whatever emotion it was bubbling up in his gut he wasn’t sure he wanted it to come out. This was like torture, not only being so close to them but having them ask about their America without even knowing that he was sitting right there in front of them. It reminded him of the days when they had still been looking for a little colony, a tiny child running by himself through the meadows and forests. He had listened to strangers calling out for him, looking for him, strangers who wanted to steal him from his meadows and forests and freedom and whisk him away to their strange, scary world. If he had known how good things could have been and how much simpler his life would have been with Arthur or Francis or any of them, he would have run to them in a heartbeat. It was only with the thought of Arthur that he realized the man was still staring at him, expecting an answer. “…no! Nope, sorry, I don’t know a thing about him.”

“But you know that they’re a him?” Alfred froze up. Of all the things to slip up on…

“Er, him, her, I dunno… I just kinda assumed, I mean, those meetings of yours are kind of a sausage fest, huh?” he laughed, hoping to diffuse the tension. All that had done was earn him Francis’s attention as well, a second startled gaze fixed on him.

“How much do you know so much about our meetings?” Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “It’s one of the most highly classified events in the world, nobody is supposed to know about what goes on inside that room.” How was Arthur so good at picking out his missteps? He didn’t even have enough time to think up a response to that one, but he knew that Arthur was right; no outsider should have had access to those meetings, not even Alfred himself.

He was just opening his mouth to speak when their waitress returned with a wine bottle and glasses. She poured their drinks at the table and told them all about the wine they had ordered. Only Francis pretended to pay attention, just to be polite. Arthur was still watching Alfred, and Alfred was trying to avoid being watched. He happened to notice Francis setting a glass before him and quietly took a sip. He was surprised to find that the wine Francis had ordered was very sweet, although it had an odd mouth feel. Not like soda, of course, but he was glad they didn’t end up with something gross. The wine did bring a silence to the table, as neither Francis nor Arthur seemed to have anything more to say to him. Alfred took another small sip of his drink before trying to speak up again.

“I told you guys that I work for security, right?” he mumbled, eyes fixed down on his drink. “I get to watch the security cameras sometimes. That’s how I know about the meetings and stuff…” Neither said anything in response. “I’m sorry if I had you guys worried or anything. I mean, I know how secret these meetings are supposed to be, you don’t want all that stuff getting out to the public I guess?”

“How much did you hear?” Alfred dared a glance up. Francis was looking at him, toying with a toying of curly blond hair. “When you were watching, what did you hear exactly?”

“Oh, I er, wasn’t watching today.” Alfred replied.

“Then what were you doing?”

“I was… sleeping…” Alfred went quiet. Even if it was true, it sounded like a flimsy lie and they both knew it. Alfred hurriedly took another drink to delay his answer.

“You slept through the _entire_ meeting?” Arthur frowned at him. Alfred nodded as he drank before setting the glass down.

“I wasn’t on duty today, so I didn’t have to watch.”

“Then why were you there at all?” Now there was a really tricky question. Who the hell came to work on a day off just to fall asleep out front? Especially when they happened to work at a government building? Alfred certainly wouldn’t, if he actually had a job like that. He had a very nice bed at home he’d rather be sleeping in. In fact, that bed sounded very inviting right about now. He almost wished he had stayed home.

“Well, I…” Alfred thought a moment, running his fingers along the base of his wine glass. He took another thoughtless sip to avoid having to talk again. “There’s definitely a good reason, I swear there is, it’ uh… it’s because, um…” He could see Arthur glaring at him in the reflection of his glass. Francis looked more weary and impatient than actually angry, but it was clear enough that the pair was sick of hearing his lies. “…you two don’t believe me, do you?”

“It’s not like it really matters at this point.” Arthur muttered, resting his head in his hand. “You may as well lie all you want now, because you won’t be able to later.” He glanced to his side. “Francis, how long did you say it would take again?”

“Not more than a few minutes, it’s highly concentrated.”

“Right, right…” Arthur rolled his eyes. “At least we won’t have to listen to this nonsense for too much longer…” Alfred glanced back and forth between the two. Something about the callous tone and the nonchalant mention of elements yet unknown made him very uneasy- or perhaps that was just the slight nausea stirring in his stomach.

“Um, what’s only going to take a few minutes...?” he asked, putting on a small smile. Arthur turned to look at him. His expression had gone completely flat, as though he were looking at a perfect image of nothing at all.

“What’s the matter, dear boy?” Arthur murmured. “Can’t you tell when your drink has been spiked?”

Suddenly, everything came to a screeching stop. A cold and heavy terror settled itself in Alfred, an awful feeling that sunk into his stomach and spread through his veins, making him shudder in unease. They had spiked his drink… He felt like he should have been afraid or even angry at a time like this. Two people he was just deciding that he should have trusted slipping him something, and simply watching as he slowly paled and weakened.

“Oh dear, Francis, will you look at that?” This was Arthur’s voice, but where was he? The world was spinning, he could barely tell where they were anymore. “I think our guest here had a bit too much to drink…”

“Oui, completely incapacitated. How unfortunate.” Francis chuckled. Alfred could only guess that he was smiling; the black spots clouding his vision were making it hard to tell. “I’ll call over the waitress for our bill. I suppose we should give him a ride, shouldn’t we?”

“Yes, of course, it’s only polite.” He could feel Arthur wrap an arm around him and pull him up. Francis was calling back the waitress, Arthur was trying to look busy tending to their newly ‘drunken’ friend. Unable to keep his balance, Alfred was forced to put his weight onto him. Arthur chuckled and hefted him up a bit more, one arm around his torso.

“Sorry to do this to you lad…” he whispered. “But you have to understand, it’s a matter of national security. I suppose it’s a little late to tell us now. We’ll see if you’ve changed your mind by the time you wake up…” His head lulled to the side, Alfred could see Arthur smiling at him as he spoke the last words he would hear in his final moments of consciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

It was the sound of a revving car engine that roused Alfred from his sleep. Cold leather greeted his cheek, and sore shoulders urged him to get up and relieve them of their awkward position, but he still felt sluggish. Every one of his limbs felt too heavy to move, as if there were weights pinned to his muscles. He let out a groan and rolled over, keeping his arms in front of his head like a wall against the bright lights and cold air. Was he hungover? No, he didn’t remember drinking much. When he thought about it, he couldn’t remember much of anything really, other than getting a strange note and spending a long time out shopping…

“Well, look who decided to wake up at last.” Alfred cracked an eye open. Sandy blonde hair, a wicked grin, glinting green eyes… Ah yes, it was all coming back to him now.

“Our sleeping beauty is finally awake?” Alfred shifted his arms a bit, trying to get a glimpse of Francis. He seemed to be in the driver’s seat, with the seat itself blocking his view of everything but Arthur. As achy and bleary as his eyes were, he could see quite clearly the smug look of dominance Arthur wore as he sat watching him. Alfred tried to pull himself up but found that he couldn’t move his arms. He glanced over his shoulder, a little surprised to find that they had bound his wrists with… was that his necktie?

“Sorry about the tie, lad.” Arthur sighed, leaning on the armrest and resting his head on his hand. “We didn’t want you trying to fight us or anything like that. Not terribly safe in a moving vehicle, we don’t want to crash. That would be messy… for you, that is. Our bodies are immortal, you know, and we’re quite strong; Francis and I could walk away from a car wreck without a scratch.”

Alfred only groaned in response, trying to cover up his face. He had one hell of a headache. The bright lights made it worse, and Arthur’s taunting wasn’t making it any better. He knew that sticking around to have ‘dinner’ with them would be a bad idea. He knew from the moment he laid eyes on ‘Arthur’ that nothing good would come out of it, but he just had to stay and hope that things would get better. He felt like such an idiot now, what had he expected to happen? Was there really some part of him that had believed that the dinner would go smoothly? Not that he was expecting to be kidnapped, but the thought of getting to enjoy a normal, ordinary meal with these two nations and then have them walk away just as oblivious to what he was as they had been when they arrived was farfetched. Alfred felt something prod gently at his arm and gave a little whine in response, hoping to make whomever was poking him cut it out.

“Come on now, look alive Alfred. The sooner you tell us what we need to know, the sooner we can stop doing this.” Alfred could feel Arthur’s fingers prodding him, trying to move his arms away from his face. Not terribly thrilled to be bothered in his current state, Alfred carefully pulled himself into a sitting position. He tried to rub his eyes one at a time with his bound hands.

“Alright… what is it that you want to know?” Alfred asked, blinking a couple of times. With his eyes open he was surprised to find himself staring down the blade of a three-inch steel folding knife. At the opposite end was Arthur, with any hint of his former mocking tone lost and replaced with a cold hostility.

“To start…” he hissed, pressing the very tip of the blade to Alfred’s throat. “You’re going to tell me who you’re working for, and why they’ve sent you.” Alfred simply stared back at him.

“Working for…?” he repeated. “I… no, England, you’ve got it all wrong, I-I’m not working for anybody.” Apparently this wasn’t the answer Arthur wanted. He jabbed the tip of the blade at him- not hard enough to really hurt him, of course. The blade pressed just hard enough to break the skin, just deep enough to form a tiny nick in the flesh that healed with all of Alfred’s immortal regenerative speed, so fast that he might as well have never been cut at all. But then, Arthur couldn’t know that.

“Cut the crap, Alfred.” He growled, leaning in with one arm on the back of his seat. “That’s a load of bullshit and you know it. You may be an amateur, but you’re obviously some sort of spy… Did the Americans send you?” Alfred’s eyes went wide. If Arthur tried to contact any member of his government about an ‘Alfred Freedom Jones,’ he’d be in serious trouble, with both his boss and likely the other nations.

“N-no, no, it definitely isn’t them!” Alfred tried to scoot away and prop himself up on the door of the car. The knife was now a good few inches away from his throat, but Arthur’s glare cut deeper than any blade. Was this really the same man who had smiled at him the afternoon before? He had seemed so kind then, so witty and gentle, but now his words were callous and cruel.

“You really are a terrible liar, you know that?” Arthur muttered. “Honestly, I haven’t had to deal with someone like you in ages… what, are the Americans running low on spies or something, or do they just think you ‘need the experience?’ Ugh…”

“They must underestimate us.” Francis turned to speak to Arthur as they reached a stoplight. “The Americans don’t have anyone to consult about this sort of thing, so it’s possible that they don’t understand what they’re up against…” Alfred tried not to be insulted. His government knew all too well the sort of things a nation could do, given the kinds of crazy stunts he pulled. If anything, his government probably overestimated what the other nations could do… which likely contributed to why he was not allowed to meet them.

“It’s insulting!” Arthur grumbled, bringing Alfred’s mind back to reality. “I hate working with amateurs, and working against them isn’t much better. It’s like they didn’t think they would have to send someone who knows what they’re doing? Like we aren’t worth the effort? What happened to the days where when somebody was being sent after us, they were the best of the best? I remember a time when we had to be subtle and cautious and…” Alfred could only listen to that for so long. As much as he wanted to hear more about Arthur’s no doubt numerous scuffles with spies and secret agents, he had more pressing matters to attend to, like escape! Tearing himself loose from the tie would be like cutting wet paper with a rotating saw, but having the use of his hands wouldn’t do him much good if he was still stuck in the car. It wasn’t like he wanted to actually fight Francis and Arthur, he was afraid he might hurt them- or worse, give himself away. The door seemed like a clear choice, but he couldn’t exactly open it and climb out. Then again, it was only a car door. How strong could steel hinges be anyway? He pressed his feet against the door, trying to gauge its strength. It was locked, which would give a little more resistance, but even factoring that in…

“Oi!” Alfred’s attention snapped back to Arthur. In testing the strength of the opposite door, he had moved within range of the knife again. “What do you think you’re you doing? Don’t think we’re through with you, you still have a lot of explaining to do!” Alfred gulped, trying to back away from the blade a little.

“Okay, okay!” He put his bound hands up in a gesture of surrender. He was glad that the pain in his muscles was subsiding, because he really only had one shot at this and he was going to need to do more than break a necktie if he was going to escape and out-maneuver two nations. “I’ll answer whatever you want me to answer. But first, um… who’s car is this?” The harsh look of incredulity Arthur gave him made him want to curl up and hide again, and he was glad when Francis turned in his seat to look at him.

“It’s my car.” He replied, looking just as confused as Arthur. “Why do you ask…?”

“Oh, well…” Alfred bit his lip. This was going to be a little hard to explain if things didn’t go as planned. He braced his feet against the door and snapped the tie apart with a single tug. “I guess I kinda wanted to know who to apologize to for this.” Before either of them had a chance to ask what he was apologizing for, Alfred pulled his feet back and smashed them against the door. To his delight it flew off in one piece, leaving behind mangled hinges and a perfect escape. Without another word Alfred leapt out and took off down the sidewalk.

It was difficult to run at first. He was getting an awful head rush that clouded his vision and swayed his steps, but anyone who might have stopped him was still in shock from seeing a car door seemingly detach itself and slam into the nearest building. Thankfully nobody was hurt- not that he had time to check. By the time anyone could question how a car door managed to free itself from its hinges in the first place he was a good block away, and getting further by the second.

His mind was racing with a million different things all at once. This experience had answered several questions about the other nations, and how true what his government had told him was; letting his existence be known was very dangerous. It occurred to him that he would have to be much more careful from now on when it came to attending their meetings from now on as well. He’d have to hide better, find a secluded spot to watch them from, maybe even dye his hair or something so they wouldn’t recognize him. He had always thought he would look good as a brunette.

Once he was a good two blocks away from where he had escaped Arthur and Francis, a more pressing thought struck to him; exactly where was he running to? Escaping the car had been his top priority, but even with his incredible stamina he couldn’t keep running forever. Going back to his home was out of the question, since the pair had to know where he lived to have left him that note. Besides, he couldn’t run home when he didn’t even know what part of the city he was in! He stopped at the next street corner to catch his breath and look around. It was dark out, but just looking around the area he could tell that they weren’t too far from the restaurant. This was a nice- and therefore safe- part of town, and there were a decent number of people walking the streets. Surely trying to attack him while he was surrounded by potential witnesses would be a bad idea, so it seemed logical to find a bright and lively area to try and stay in to keep them from coming after him. He scanned the area with his eyes. A big, fancy hotel a little ways away stuck out to him.

“Yeah, that’ll work.” He grinned inwardly and started off towards it, glancing over his shoulder for safety. He couldn’t see Arthur or Francis, but he knew that they weren’t be far behind him. He started off into the crowds of people towards the hotel, walking at a normal pace to keep from looking suspicious. Then again, it wasn’t like anybody would know what he was trying to get away from, nor who he was himself and why he might be running. Perhaps there was something to be said for anonymity, the feeling of being a mere face in an endless sea of faces, utterly unexceptional and unknown to those who could harm him.

He was a little surprised then, when he fixed his eyes forward and walked into what at first seemed to be a mirror. Who on earth left mirrors in the middle of the sidewalk? For a moment he stared at it, blinking and trying to get it to blink back, but… it didn’t. If anything, it felt like his reflection was acting on its own rather than following his movements. What was wrong with this mirror anyway? His reflection was nothing like him, apart from its face, it wasn’t even wearing the same clothes as him-- Alfred stopped short. He took a small step back, but his mirror image stayed in place, giving him a confused and even scared look. Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but his double beat him to it.

“What the…?” The other’s voice was much softer than his. A shocking realization struck Alfred in that moment; this was not a reflection. This was another person, and he knew exactly who it was because there was only one other being on earth who shared his face, and that was his brother. Of all the people to run into at a time like this! Alfred stood gaping at him in horror for what he realized to be far too long before he started off again. “Hey, wait a minute!” Alfred heard his brother call after him, but his voice quickly faded into the din of shoppers and tourists. He would have loved to stop and chat if only he weren’t running for his life. Really though, what were the odds of running into him now?! He tried not to think too hard on it for the moment. There were more important things to worry about, like getting to the hotel. If he could just get there, they wouldn’t be able to get him. He could just run in and let security take over if anything happened. He just had to get there. Alfred poured on the speed, running as fast as he could until his foot caught and he almost tripped on something.

“Ow! Watch where you’re going!” squawked a voice so small and shrill he almost mistook the thing he had tripped over for a little girl. As it was, the voice belonged to a little _boy_. He quickly recognized the little boy in question as Sealand, as well as the few adult nations around him. One of them knelt to help the boy up, giving Alfred a dirty look.

“Sorry, sorry, so sorry!” He scrambled to his feet and took off again before they had a chance to say anything more to him. At any other time he would definitely have stuck around to apologize, but this was starting to scare him. Running into his brother had been bad enough, why were so many of the other nations out around here?! Had Arthur planned this, or was it some sort of freaky coincidence that they all happened to be in the same area at the same time of night? Whatever the case, the hotel entrance was now just thirty feet away; as long as he didn’t run into anyone else he would be safe!

If that was the case, however, then it seemed that the universe didn’t want him to be safe, because at that moment he crashed head-on into somebody, and he would be kidding himself if he guessed it was someone other than a nation. It was only when he looked up to see who it was that he realized how badly he had just screwed himself over. Not only was this definitely a nation, but it was one of the biggest, strongest ones- probably _the_ biggest strongest one in terms of physical strength. Of all the people he could have run into, it had to be Russia.

“Oh, shit dude, I-I am so sorry…” Alfred backed away a little. He had always imagined Russia to be scary up close, even if it was just by intimidation- he wasn’t exactly short, but Russia had at least half a foot on him! Not to mention the fact that the guy looked like he looked like he belonged in a Strongman competition. The last thing he wanted to do was make him angry, let alone now of all times. He didn’t want to be ripped in half when he was so close to getting away. He looked up, praying to see anything but a look of anger. Russia mostly just looked startled and a little confused, but not hostile as far as Alfred could tell. He decided to play it safe anyway and took a few small, shuffling steps away. “Totally wasn’t paying attention, my bad bro, if I could just--”

“ _Ivan!_ ” Alfred spun around to see that, to his horror, Arthur had caught up and was running towards them at full speed. “Ivan, grab that boy! Don’t let him get away!" Before he even had a chance to try and run Alfred felt a painfully tight grip on his arm. He looked back over his shoulder to find that Russia- or ‘Ivan,’ apparently- no longer looked confused and passive. No, now he was wary of Alfred and not willing to let him go. Alfred struggled to wrench his arm away, twisting and yanking the arm he held and trying to pry his fingers off with his free hand.

“Come on man, don’t do this to me, let me go!” Alfred didn’t want to admit that he was begging, but at this point he was in full panic mode and couldn’t stand the thought of being caught. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t let them catch him. He didn’t even want to know what they’d do to him, but the fear had warped and twisted the confession he had been dying to make into a deep, dark secret. In his mind the consequences of telling the other nations what he was grew worse and worse with every passing second, and by the time Arthur reached him he was beating his fist against Ivan’s fingers and screaming for him to “Let go, let go, let go!” When Ivan finally did let go Arthur was there to grab onto him, trying to still Alfred even momentarily.

“Alfred, wait!” Arthur tried to grab his head and pull him to look him in the eye, but Alfred was fighting back in any way he could think of. He didn’t care where he was going to run anymore. He could have run forever, he just needed to get far, far away from the nations and the hotel and the danger and terror. Between both Arthur trying to fight him down and Ivan trying to hold him still, he couldn’t get away. Arthur’s frantic hands trying to grab onto him didn’t make things any less stressful, he could hardly even see what he was doing. A sharp pain in his side made him cry out, clutching at where it had struck him. The pain was enough to bring him to his knees, leaving Arthur confused as to why he had stopped until he looked down. He heard Arthur gasp and slowly step away. Alfred looked down, hoping to find the source of the pain so that he could remove it and run away before they could catch him again. There, sticking out from between his ribs, was the handle of Arthur’s folding knife.

“…Ivan, keep the other humans away from us.” Alfred looked up. The command had been spoken softly, but he knew it had been Arthur who said it. He stared down at him in a mix of shock, terror, and guilt, before he knelt to try and remove the knife. At first Alfred tried to struggle, but as Arthur began to extract the three-inch steel blade he realized that trying to move would be a bad idea.

“Alfred… just try and sit still so I can do this, please.” Arthur murmured, his words hushed but genuinely concerned. “Didn’t think I’d stab you… wasn’t paying attention, should have been more careful with this stupid thing…” Alfred was only half-listening. Every time the blade shifted it felt like he was being stabbed all over again, making him tense up and gasp for breath. Maybe he had imagined things, but he swore he heard Arthur gentle reassuring him, little whispers of ‘don’t worry’ and ‘you’re going to be okay.’ Perhaps the blood loss was making him imagine things. Why would he care so much all of a sudden? Was it because he had hurt him, or merely because he could get in trouble for hurting him? Alfred was just grateful to have the blade out of him and safely put aside, but looking down and seeing Arthur undoing the bottom buttons of his shirt made him remember that he was nowhere close to being out of danger yet.

“Wh-what are you--”

“Hush.” Arthur cut him off. “I’m just checking the wound. You’re a spy, we can’t send you to the hospital. They’ll ask too many questions. I can patch you up myself if I have to.”

“I-I’m not...” Alfred choked on his words. The pain was fading away as Alfred’s rapid regeneration kicked in. Arthur had peeled away the bloody cloth just in time for them to watch the wound seal itself up. If it weren’t for the bloody mess that stained Alfred’s shirt and Arthur’s hands, there may as well have never been a wound in the first place. Arthur’s eyes were glued to the place where it had been, his mouth hanging open in shock. He looked like he was trying to ask, but he just couldn’t get the words out. Only when he looked up and met Alfred’s teary-eyed gaze did the younger nation speak.

“I wasn’t allowed to tell you…” His voice was barely a whisper. Arthur’s stunned expression didn’t go away, but it did slowly change into something a little more understanding.

“You aren’t working for the Americans.” he murmured. Alfred gulped and shook his head. “You were never working for the Americans, you _are_ … oh my god.” Arthur looked him dead in the eye, searching his broken and bloodied features for any hint of misunderstanding, but all of the little pieces just fell perfectly into place. Arthur reached up and cupped his cheek with one blood-stained hand, brushing away the first tear to fall from his eyes. “…America.”


	5. Chapter 5

The hours that followed the stabbing were nothing more than a blur to Alfred. Vague memories drifted in and out of his mind, but he was unable to hold onto any of them for very long. He could, however, vividly remember having a meltdown outside of the hotel when Arthur figured out what he was. Between the overwhelming relief of having the big secret off his chest and the fear of what was to come, he couldn’t hold everything in any longer. He remembered his panic as he watched the other nations close in on him, all of them wanting to know what was going on and who that strange young man was and why he and Arthur were in such a state as they were.

He remembered glimpsing his brother’s face again, his eyes wide in disbelief at what he was seeing. He remembered the questioning looks of the hotel staff, and how ashamed of himself he had felt as they stared at him. He remembered being helped inside and into the elevator, as the others had realized he could barely keep himself upright. More than anything he remembered the emotions themselves, the indescribable terror of being at the mercy of the people he had been hiding from his entire life, the people who had drugged him and threatened him and chased him into his current situation, the people who were so dangerous that he had to be kept a secret from them for hundreds of years.

He did not remember the details of what had landed him in his current situation. Once they had gotten him into the elevator things started to get fuzzy. Little bits and pieces would flit through his mind; his brother’s face, Arthur’s hands, an instruction to ‘stay put and calm down, if you can.’ He had no idea how much time had passed since then, how long it took for his mind to once again breach the surface of clear thought after being drowned in the anxiety and shame and panic that had swallowed up the past few hours of his life.

Now that his mind was a little clearer and his nerves a little calmer, he could take in his surroundings properly. He found himself staring into a softly lit cream-colored void. Reaching his hand into it and discovering the way it dipped and folded with his movement, he found it to be a blanket, one he carefully moved away from his face to see where he was. Maybe he had expected something a little scarier, someplace like a dark basement or a holding cell or even the back of the car again, but this was certainly not any of those places. The first thing he spotted was a brownish blob a few feet away with two patches of clearly textured wood that seemed to sit atop it- his glasses. He took them from the table and slid them on, and the world came back into focus.

He was in a bed, that much he was certain of. To the side he laid facing he could only see the closet, the bedside table, and his shoes sitting on the floor beside the bed. As he rolled over he found that he was in one of the hotel’s nicely furnished rooms, inhabited by whom he could only assume to be one of the other nations given the amount of luggage piled against the wall. The closet and wall hid the door and presumably a bathroom from his view, and an empty bed sat at the opposite end of the room close to the window. He was tempted to get up and see if he could tell what floor he was on, but at this point he figured that another attempt at escape would be unwise. Besides, he didn’t really want to break his legs doing something stupid like jumping out a window. Sure, it would heal, but it hurt like a bitch!

The soft beeping sound of the hotel door being unlocked made him freeze in place, clutching the blankets in his hands. As the door opened he could hear someone shouting from one of the other rooms, but only for long enough for his own room’s owner to step in and shut the door again. He was mumbling something to himself as he came around the corner. Alfred was surprised to see his mirror step into sight- not that he was actually dumb enough to make that mistake again. Now that he had a chance to get a good look at him, he realized that they really weren’t all that alike at all. His brother was lankier than he was, and his hair was longer and curlier with a shine like sweet golden caramel. He had a softer face and milder eyes that, to Alfred’s alarm, were fixed on him from the moment he entered Alfred’s sight. He stopped where he was, staring at Alfred and looking surprised when Alfred stared right back. His lips parted, still for a while before he could find something to say.

“…hi.” He murmured, unable to take his eyes off of him. Alfred blinked. His brother’s greeting struck him like the first raindrop of an unexpected storm. It took him a moment before he could come up with a reply.

“…hey.” Alfred loosened his grip on the blanket. Just looking at the guy it was obvious that he didn’t mean him any harm. Hell, this brother of his didn’t look like he would hurt a fly. His soft voice and gentle expression made him look like the type who caught the fly with a cup and a bit of paper and set it free outside, and when he looked about to speak again Alfred was eager to hear what he said.

“Um… are you feeling any better?” he asked, his eyebrows knitted together. It took Alfred a moment to realize that he had asked him a question.

“…yeah!” Alfred propped himself up on a pillow, running a hand through his hair just to keep from sitting idle. “Yeah, yeah, I’m doing a lot better now, I think.”

“That’s good to hear.” His brother pulled a lopsided little smile and walked over to the side of the bed. “You, uh… you weren’t doing all that great when they dragged you up here. You were kinda… freaking out…” Alfred bit his lip. He didn’t remember exactly what he had done on his way up, but he had a feeling it would lead to some awkward introductions later when he met the other nations- _if_ he met the other nations.

“Here.” Alfred looked up again to see the lid of a coffee cup under his nose- a cup from which a heavenly aroma was wafting towards him. “I went across the street and got a coffee a little while ago, so I figured I’d bring you something. I’m not super well-versed in Starbucks though, and I wasn’t sure what you would want. I think it’s like, a cinnamon latte or something?”

“Oh wow, thanks!” He sat up and took a long sip of the drink. A taste like liquid coziness danced across his tongue, making him relax a little. “Aw man, that’s really good. Thanks, uh…”

“Matthew.” His brother’s smile faltered. “Eng—er, _Arthur_ told us to let you call us by our uh, ‘human’ names. I guess he thinks it would be weird for you to call us by our countries?” Matthew shrugged and looked away, scratching at the back of his neck. Alfred wasn’t sure he liked the idea of having to call everyone by human names, especially since he knew them all by their proper titles but knew almost none of their other names. If he ended up being allowed to be around these people, he wanted to get used to calling them by their real names. Matthew cleared his throat and Alfred looked up again. “Do you… know who I am?”

“Do I…?” Alfred stared at him. A small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re Canada, right?” The look of surprise his brother gave him delighted Alfred, and the grin that bloomed across his face made it all the better.

“Y-yeah.” He sounded pleased, if not a little embarrassed. “Most of the time people forget, or just don’t know… was that a lucky guess, or did the accent give it away?” he chuckled, and Alfred found himself laughing along with him.

“Actually, I’ve been watching your guys’ meetings for a few years now, I so kinda know who all of you are and stuff.” He could remember well several occasions on which fighting had broken out over something stupid and he’d been forced to try and keep himself from grinning and laughing like an idiot. He was still grinning as he looked back at his brother. Matthew didn’t seem to think that his watching the meetings was something to be laughing about; his smile had faded away, replaced with a worried and even anxious frown.

“You’ve been watching the meetings?” he asked, eyes narrowed slightly. Alfred realized that this was his first misstep. He glanced off the side of the bed. His shoes were still tied, as if they had simply been slipped off his feet. If he had to, he figured he could pull them back on and make a run for it… although he still wasn’t sure where he’d go if he did.

“Yes…?” Alfred shifted in bed, trying to get into a position where he could climb out of bed easily. “I-I just… I wanted to see you guys, since I couldn’t be there myself. I thought watching through the security feed might be the next best thing...” That wasn’t too unreasonable, right? Matthew’s expression seemed to soften a bit at that, but he did look a bit confused.

“Why didn’t you ever just come to the meeting?” he muttered. Alfred opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself. Would he even understand if he told him that his government wouldn’t allow it? They had always told him that it would be too dangerous for him to go, but from what he saw nobody else’s government seemed to have that problem. As normal as it felt to him, he was kind of the exception in this case. He couldn’t even think of a response for Matthew, other than the simple truth, and he didn’t even get a chance to say that before someone outside knocked on the door. Without another word, Matthew hurried over to let them in.

“I swear, these people just do not want to listen. They don’t seem to understand the position they’re in…” Alfred pressed his lips together. How could he forget that voice? The same voice that had not long ago threatened his ‘life,’ the voice spoken through lips that smiled as sweetly as an angel’s- how could one man be so frightening yet so enchanting? The knowledge of his presence made Alfred want to both hide under and peek through the blankets, neither of which he did by the time Arthur stepped into view.

“Oh well, perhaps it’s for the best that he’s here… How is he, by the way?” Arthur didn’t even look his way until Matthew pointed him out. Alfred caught himself staring at Arthur, wide-eyed and speechless. It was odd seeing him in anything other than a pressed shirt or blazer, even his plain viridian pajamas looked a little odd when he was used to him wearing nice clothes. Arthur regarded him with the same awe he did Arthur, but he had a feeling that it was for a very different reason. Alfred sat up a little straighter, scooting back a little further the closer Arthur came to his bedside. He didn’t expect to feel the warmth of his hand against his forehead, nor the breath catch in his throat as Arthur leaned close and scrutinized his features.

“How are you feeling, lad?” he asked. “You’re looking a little more… collected. Do you still feel sick?”

“What?” Alfred frowned. God, what had he done in front of these people? He was afraid to find out, they made it sound awfully embarrassing. “I, er… y-yeah, I’m uh, feeling better… not sick or anything.”

“Good.” Arthur gave his shoulder a pat and straightened up again. “You were a right miserable sight when we brought you up here. I wasn’t sure if you were going to vomit, faint, or piss yourself, but by the looks of it you seem to have refrained from doing any of them.” It took every bit of Alfred’s will not to go back to his original plan of hiding under the blankets. That description was just embarrassing; Arthur thought he was going to piss himself? He was glad he didn’t, but the fact that Arthur thought he might was bad enough.

“Here.” Alfred looked up again. Though it was no cinnamon latte, he was equally surprised to see a roll of clothing being presented to him, in the same fabric of Arthur’s pajamas by the looks of it. “You ought to change into these. I would have changed you myself, but I didn’t think you’d be comfortable with me touching you that much.” Alfred took the clothes, looking them over in his hands.

“Are these… pajamas?” He already knew they were, so Arthur’s confirmation came as no surprise. “But… I don’t know if I should be going home in these. I mean, they’re really nice, but I wouldn’t want to like, lose your pajamas…” Alfred set the clothes in his lap, hoping that Arthur would understand. The sobering frown he wore said just the opposite, and Matthew’s refusal to look at him didn’t give him much more hope. “You know, ‘cuz like… my place is kinda messy, sometimes I lose things… in my house…”

“Alfred,” Arthur heaved a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m afraid we aren’t going to be able to send you home tonight.” Alfred stiffened where he sat. He felt like he should have seen that coming. He gulped, squirming where he sat in an attempt to make himself comfortable with this unsettling new detail.

“What do you mean?” he asked, trying to force a smile. “I have to go home sometime, right? I mean, I live there and all.”

“You’ll get back home eventually.” Arthur folded his arms across his chest. “But for tonight, we can’t let you leave the hotel. I can provide you with the pyjamas, and Matthew here got put in a room with two beds, so we’ve got room to accommodate--”

“Why?” Alfred cut him short. “Is this going to be like the restaurant? Do you still not trust me?”

“Restaurant?” Matthew gave Arthur a questioning look, but he went ignored.

“It isn’t anything like the restaurant, I can promise you that, but you aren’t going to like it.”

“Arthur, what are you guys talking about?” Arthur shot Matthew a glance that, while rude, was effective in sending the message.

“The truth is, Alfred, I just got off the phone with your boss.” Alfred’s stomach dropped like a rock.

“Y-you… you what…?” he murmured. It had happened. He had spent so much time trying to keep his superiors from finding out that he watched and followed the other nations, and yet one of the nations he adored had gone and told them everything- and if that had been Arthur shouting in the hall earlier, he hadn’t exactly been delicate with the news. “Oh no…”

“Don’t worry, I told them everything. They weren’t terribly sporting about your being here though. I’m afraid that letting you go home now would mean not seeing you for a while.”

“Oh no, no…” Alfred groaned, pulling back his hair through his fingers. “This is really bad…”

“Don’t worry Alfred, it won’t be so bad. If all goes well, you should be able to go get some of your things tomorrow.”

“No, not that part.” The idea of staying in a big hotel with just about all of the other nations sounded like a huge and amazing slumber party to him, but he couldn’t enjoy it at a time like this. “My government wasn’t supposed to know that I was going to see you guys… they don’t know that I’ve been watching your meetings, they don’t even know that I know where you are…” He could only imagine the trouble awaiting him outside. He wasn’t certain that he would have Arthur’s sympathy, but he was caught off guard by the his anger.

“Your government has no right to withhold you from us.” Arthur grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, they should have told us about you ages ago, decades… how long has this been going on?”

“Um…” Alfred actually had to think on that one. It had been after both of the World Wars had ended, that much he was certain of. “Must have been around the mid-forties…”

“It started that recently?” Arthur quirked an eyebrow. It occurred to Alfred that, given the age difference, his and Arthur’s definitions of ‘recent’ were very different. “Alfred, how old are you?”

“Well, I’ve only been counting since my independence, but there was a good while before that where I was just kinda running around on my own. A while after that too.” He remembered it well. Those had been truly free days, although they hadn’t all been pleasant.

“What, you were just running around the New World on your own?” The anger was beginning to melt from Arthur’s expression. “You must not have been very big then, wasn’t anybody taking care of you?”

“No.” Alfred cast his gaze to the ground. Occasionally, if he was lucky, he would be offered help from friendly strangers, but nobody properly cared for him back then. “I kinda always knew what I was, but back then I didn’t really know what to do with myself, so I just… did my own thing, I guess…” Yet again he found himself wishing that he had come forward to one of the other nations when he was still small. Arthur didn’t even look angry anymore, just a little sad. He was quiet for a while, his eyes set on the ground and his thoughts set far away and long ago. Finally he placed a hand on Alfred’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze.

“You ought to be getting to bed soon.” he mumbled. “We can discuss the details of your return home in the morning over breakfast… which will be nothing like tonight’s dinner, I promise.” Arthur turned and started towards the door but paused just inside it. “I’m going to have to talk with your people a little more, Alfred, especially your boss. It’s a delicate topic, I know that, but this isn’t something that we can allow to go on.” Arthur looked back at him. “You understand that, right? We know who you are, you’re part of the world now.” Alfred stared back at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly agape. To be part of their little world… That was all he had wanted for most of his life. He would never have imagined it happening like this, yet in a way it wasn’t far off from what he had imagined. He knew it would be scary and strange, and he wasn’t surprised that it left him feeling a bit ill, albeit from the stress. A part of him had known that he would probably cry, at least a little.

“…yeah, I understand.” He murmured. Arthur nodded and, without another word, left the room. Alfred sat with his eyes fixed on the place he had just been, still trying to take it all in. He’d be one of them, one of the nations, just like Arthur and Matthew and all the rest. No more watching from afar, he could finally interact with the only other people in the world that shared his experiences, speak to them, meet with them, live with them…

“You should probably go change your clothes now.” Alfred jumped, startled by the voice from seemingly nowhere. It took him a moment to realize that it had been Matthew.

“Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me. I forgot you were here.”

“I get that a lot.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Matthew sighed. “You can go in the bathroom and change now, if you want. I mean, you probably shouldn’t wear _that_ to sleep…” He pointed to his brother’s shirt. Alfred looked down, a little surprised to see the large blood stain and hole in his shirt. How did he manage to forget about that?

“Right, uh, thanks…” he mumbled, climbing out of bed. “Probably shouldn’t keep wearing this… I’ll take it home tomorrow, if I can, I’ll do something with it there.” He probably wouldn’t wash it, but he would put it somewhere. He started towards the bathroom, trying to keep from being awkwardly close to his brother as he went. The bathroom was small but clean, practically the opposite of his at home. He shut and locked the door behind him, then let out a breath he barely realized he had been holding.

“Oh my god…” he groaned, rubbing his temples. Now that he was alone again he was being hit with a stomach-churning mix of emotions, only some of which were good. A big part of him was excited, as thrilled as he had been when he rode the first roller coaster and every bit as queasy. Fear was a big one too; as soon as the excitement subsided, a hundred different worries hit him like a tidal wave. What was his boss going to do? What would his other, less sympathetic superiors do? Hell, what were the other nations do when they found out their current host had arrived several centuries late to the party? Even with the promise of good times to come, the knowledge that he had missed so much time with these people made his heart ache even more than it usually did.

Unable to face his reflection, Alfred buried his face in the pajamas. The scent they carried was soothing, a fragrant cocktail of smoke and roses and lavender cologne, not unlike the way the backseat of the car had smelled. Whether it was the scent of another nation or the mere scent itself that was calming he wasn’t sure, but he was glad to have it. He looked up at himself in the mirror. Despite his tan he looked a little pale, and his skin felt cool and clammy. The reek of cleaning chemicals and partially dried blood wasn’t helping. Alfred’s hands shook as he set the pajamas down on the bathroom counter, trying to steady his balance for long enough to stagger over to the toilet. The combination of stress, rohypnol, and the smell of bleach were making him feel horribly sick, and when he got the toilet seat up, he promptly vomited.


	6. Chapter 6

For the days that followed, the American government was in a state of disarray. Not all of it of course, the majority of its systems were going about their usual business as if nothing had happened; the postal service was still running, the schools were open, and the police were no worse than usual. It was just the few dozen people at the top- the ones responsible for making sure people knew how mundane everything was- who knew that anything out of the ordinary had happened at all. It wasn’t every day that a group of representatives from various countries called up the nation’s leader and demanded an audience with him. It wasn’t the sort of thing that could be thrown together on such short notice, these things normally had to be arranged months in advance!

Arthur might have felt lucky to get a phone call with the president if he weren’t intent on chewing him out. Seventy years of secret keeping and several hundred years of absence could not be remedied by a simple phone call, not to mention the fact that they had to postpone the meeting a day or two- although none of the other nations seemed opposed to getting a little extra time to spend bumming around New York. Arthur wasn’t really expecting the president’s friendly compliance. As it turned out, Alfred had confronted him about his going to their meeting as soon as he got the chance. Apparently there had been a lot of begging involved, and a little arguing with several of his superiors, but his boss had given him the okay to go to the remaining parts of the meeting being hosted in New York.

From what Arthur could tell just by listening to him on the phone, Alfred was thrilled to finally be joining them. He spent at least half an hour on the phone with him talking over proper conduct, the ever-loosening dress code, and to reinforce Alfred’s belief that yes, it probably would be the “best frickin’ day of his life.” He couldn’t help but smile at the way Alfred gushed about how he imagined the meetings to be in person and asked a hundred questions about every little detail. It was quite amusing, cute even, and he had come to the unsurprising realization that Alfred had been waiting for a very long time to go to one of these meetings.

Perhaps was why Arthur was so surprised when Alfred didn’t show up. He sat waiting in the lobby for some time, watching the parking lot for an unfamiliar but distinctly American-looking car, but there was no sign of him. Hell, he hadn’t heard a thing from Alfred all day, not so much as a phone call.

“Do you think he may have forgotten that today is the day?” Francis mumbled, leaning on the back of Arthur’s chair.

“Not a chance. He must have asked me a hundred times about the date, and I think he put it in his phone or something. I told him to make a note of it somewhere.” Arthur frowned, still staring out the door. “I don’t understand what could be taking him so long. He obviously knows how to get here, he said he was going to set his alarm clock early, and I made sure that he had the date…”

“You don’t think his boss might have gone back on his word?” Francis lowered his voice, leaning in a little closer. “They were reluctant to let him come in the first place, non? It’s possible they changed their minds at the last second and didn’t tell us…”

“I’m hoping that isn’t the case.” Arthur pursed his lips. A thought crossed his mind of Alfred sitting by himself, being kept from the meeting by a locked door or perhaps a guard of some sort and thinking longingly of what he was yet again missing. “…I think I’m going to go look for him.”

“The meeting is going to start in ten minutes.” Francis pointed out. “Do you think you’ll be back by then?”

“I’ll try to be.” Arthur stood and started towards the door. “You don’t have to wait up for me, just make sure that nothing too important happens until I get back.”

Arthur didn’t even bother with the security. They knew who he was, they didn’t bother him beyond a bit of fussing, and he was out the door and ten feet away by the time they might have done anything anyway. He was half-hoping to see Alfred as he walked out, rushing towards the door while panting out some ridiculous excuse, but he had no such luck. Alfred was nowhere to be seen.

“Damn it, they better not have taken this away from him…” He hated to think of poor Alfred losing his chance at something that was so important to him. Arthur pulled his coat on as he walked, making a beeline for the parking lot. He’d pop over to Alfred’s place to check and see if he was there, call him on the way, send him a text message, voicemail, try whatever he could to get in contact with him again. He didn’t even care about what the American officials said anymore, he had been waiting centuries for the day he could have an America at his side, he wasn’t about to let anybody steal it from him!

Arthur was practically sprinting through the parking lot, hardly stopping to glance around. He could see his own little rental car sitting at the far end, alongside a car that hadn’t been there when he’d arrived. He happened to steal a glance at the license plate and read ‘USA4LYF’ surrounded by a stars and stripes-printed frame and stopped short. He couldn’t help but stare at the gaudy little thing before looking up at the truck itself. Someone was sitting in the driver’s seat. It seemed too easy to be true, but now that he’d noticed it he just had to check.

Arthur took a moment to catch his breath, then slowly made his way around to the driver’s side. Sure enough, there was Alfred sitting there, dressed in nothing less than business casual as instructed. He tapped on the window to draw his attention. Alfred jumped, startled, and looked over at him with his anxious, deer-in-the-headlights eyes. He opened the door and turned in his seat to face Arthur.

“Hey, Arthur…” Alfred mumbled, leaning out a bit. “What are you doing out here?”

“Looking for you!” Arthur might have been a little frustrated if he hadn’t spent the morning worrying about him. “The meeting is going to start in ten minutes, I was expecting you to get here early. I thought you’d want to meet everyone before we got started.”

“Oh!” Alfred cringed. “I’m sorry Arthur, I… I meant to be out there earlier, but I just… it didn’t happen, I guess. I’m real sorry…” He scratched the back of his neck, lowering his gaze to the ground. Arthur waited a moment for some explanation, but as none came he began to realize that Alfred seemed awfully uncomfortable.

“Is everything alright, Alfred?” he asked, straightening up a little. Alfred’s eyes snapped back to him, and frown tugged at his lips.

“Well, I… You know how like, sometimes, when there’s something you do really want and you go beg and plead to do it, but then when you get there it actually ends up being a _lot_ scarier than you thought it was gonna be…?”

“You’re nervous?” Arthur’s expression softened. Alfred’s quiet nod was all the conformation he needed. Poor thing, he hadn’t even considered this possibility. “So you’ve just been sitting here worrying about it even more?”

“I figure it beats worrying about it in there.”

“Oh, Alfred…” Arthur clicked his tongue. “It’s alright to be nervous about these things. You should have seen us the first time we tried to organize one of these things. If I’d had my own car back then, I probably would have hidden too.”

“Really?” Alfred looked up. Arthur let himself smile and gave Alfred a nod.

“Yes, really. I’m not exactly a social butterfly, and most of these people aren’t terribly fond of me… but that’s besides the point!” he added. He didn’t want to drag Alfred into thinking about or feeling sorry for him and his long history of not getting along well with others. “My point is that I understand why you’re hiding, but that doesn’t mean that I think you should. You don’t have a thousand-years reputation to weigh you down with these people, and I think you’d do well to get to know them before they make any snap judgments about your lateness.” Arthur knew how well everyone here was- or _thought_ they were- at reading people. He didn’t want them to get the wrong idea about Alfred before the boy even got a chance to introduce himself.

“Well… what if they already don’t like me?” Alfred asked hesitantly. “My government has done a bunch of crazy stuff, I know that it’s screwed you guys over before. What if some of them already think I’m some kind of stupid kid?” He had a fair point there. There were likely some nations that weren’t so happy about the discovery of Alfred, and Arthur wouldn’t put it past some of them to be rude to him because of what his people had done in the past.

“That won’t happen.” Arthur put on a smile he sincerely hoped was comforting. “Everybody has been dying to meet you, Alfred. They’re going to adore you.”

“And what if they don’t?” Alfred squirmed in his seat, looking more and more worried by the minute. “What if they already hate me for screwing the world up so bad?”

“Then you’ll have the people who don’t hate you to fall back on.” Arthur put his hands on Alfred’s shoulders, straightening up as much as he could to keep from seeming too short to pull such a thing off. “I don’t hate you, and neither do France and Canada, and all the others you haven’t even met yet.”

“But they hate my country…”

“No they don’t, Alfred!” Arthur took his hands and clutched them to his heart. “Maybe they hate some of the things your people have done, I’d be surprised if they didn’t, but you’re proof more than any of us that there’s more to a country than its laws and politicians. There are living, breathing people, people who live lives around those laws, but they are not the laws. We aren’t just our governments, Alfred, and we aren’t just our histories. We are our countries, and they have no right to hate all of that. Nobody in the world does.” Alfred stared at him, wide-eyed. Arthur could only pray that he had gotten his point across. He couldn’t have Alfred going in there with the assumption that everyone was going to hate him. With an attitude like that, they just might learn to. “Do you understand?” he spoke softly. Alfred’s speechless stare wasn’t giving him much hope, but he was relieved to see a small nod after a moment or two.

“Y-yeah…” Alfred murmured. “Yeah, I think I understand… and I think I kinda wanna go meet them now.” Arthur allowed himself a wide grin to spread across his face as he helped Alfred out of the car.

“It’s going to go just fine, Alfred.” He gave him a pat on the shoulder and started towards the building. “You’ll see. This isn’t going to be a very heavy meeting. The most important thing we have to discuss is… well, you.” Arthur glanced over his shoulder at him. “I… We’ve all been wondering about you. I think most of them lost hope that you even existed.”

“But you didn’t?”

“I…” Arthur hesitated, then shook his head. “I have to admit, I had my doubts…” he sighed. “I’ve been searching for hundreds of years without finding anything, that would make anyone lose hope Most humans don’t even get that long to look… I didn’t think they you would just fall into my life like this.” He forced a chuckle. Alfred didn’t blame him for losing hope. Surely such a thing wore on a person after a while.

“Hey, like… better late than never, right?” Alfred tried to put on a smile, content with the soft, genuine laughter he earned from Arthur that time.

“Indeed. You’re part of the family now, I suppose.” Arthur paused a little ways outside the door,  
turning to look back at Alfred. “I feel like I should tell you now, before we go in… not to worry you, but if anything _does_ go as bad as you thought it might,” He moved in a little closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Matthew, Francis and I will be right there for you. You’re here because you deserve to be, we don’t want anybody to give you a hard time.” Alfred raised his eyebrows.

“Er, you guys don’t have to--”

“We want to, Alfred.” Without warning Arthur pulled him into a quick, tight hug. “You’re part of our family now. We want you to be happy here with us.” Alfred stood motionless, unsure of how he was meant to react to this. In his mind he flashed back to the dozens of times he had seen families embrace before, of parents hugging children and even of Matthew and Francis sharing that ever enviable bond of fatherland and ex-colony. Alfred gulped and, a bit hesitant at first, slowly returned his embrace. The moment was as meaningful and tender as it was brief, and before he knew it he had to let go, left only with a smile on his face and a fluttering in his heart.

“You’re ready then?” Alfred blinked, returning his attention to Arthur. He had offered him a hand and gestured towards the building. “We really are going to be late if we don’t hurry.” Alfred gave him a nod and took his hand, letting Arthur lead him into the great, gleaming building and towards his bright new future.


	7. Bonus I

To say that it had been a stressful evening would be gross understatement. Arthur had done everything he could to prepare for this evening; the anonymous invitation, the drink, the knife in the glove box, the small room in the hotel basement set up for a proper interrogation… it didn’t feel like anything was going to wrong. In fact, he had been quite confident that things were going to go smoothly. This was an amateur they were working with after all, it wasn’t like he would know how to escape a pair of centuries-old nations with decades of espionage experience, enhanced strength, and indestructible bodies. He was just nineteen, barely an adult! To a nation his life was like the blink of an eye, and even if he was strong he shouldn’t have been able to outrun or out-fight either of them.

And yet...

Something had happened that he hadn’t planned for. Something happened that he _couldn’t_ plan for. How on Earth was he supposed to have expected any of this? He hadn’t really intended to hurt him with the knife, let alone stab the poor boy! Even after he had managed to pry out the knife he knew that things could only go downhill from there. The knife had lodged itself between his ribs, likely puncturing a lung or scraping the bone or at least causing some sort of internal bleeding. That was Arthur’s first regret; he only meant to stop the boy from running away, he wasn’t trying to kill him!

As if by a miracle, he survived. Hell, survived didn’t do it justice. The wound vanished as quickly as it had appeared- the blood, the pain, the gore, completely gone. It seemed impossible at first, no mere human could do anything like that, the only people on earth he had ever seen heal so quickly were...

Everything snapped into place. All the lies and scattered clues and panic, everything clicked in his head and suddenly made sense, as he realized what he had just done. This was not, in fact, a young and inexperienced spy like he had thought. This young man, Alfred, he was one of _them_.

Maybe that was why he was so angry now that he was talking to the young man’s boss.

“What do you mean we weren’t ‘supposed’ to know about him?!” Arthur shouted back into the phone. “You knew who he was, you knew _what_ he was, you should have turned him over to us immediately! Do you have any idea—No it would not be a breach of security! Every nation has one, he isn’t in any more danger here with us than he would be with you lot!” His face was flushed, his hands curled into fists, and his voice was becoming hoarse from all the shouting he had been doing that evening; Arthur Kirkland was mad. More than mad, he was furious. These idiots on the other end were trying to convince him that they were in the right and that he wasn’t supposed to know about this at all. Arthur knew for a fact that it was total bullshit.

“He belonged with us! Two hundred and thirty-nine years, and every one of them he should have spent with us! Hell, far longer than that, but you people have the _nerve--_ ”

“England…”

“No I am not going to ‘discuss’ this! There is nothing to discuss! You people are holding him back from something he should have had from the very beginning!”

“England.” A hand came to rest on his shoulder. Arthur looked back, already scowling before he got a chance to see who it was- not that he really had any doubts. Francis had been there with him the whole time, listening to his shouting. He looked about to speak when the person on the other end of the phone spoke up again. Arthur held one finger up, a gesture to pause, and listened.

“…alright… yes, fine, I’ll talk to him, but he isn’t leaving this hotel until morning. We aren’t about to let you take him away again. Goodnight, sir.” Arthur dropped the phone onto the receiver and clapped his hands over his face, sinking into the couch behind them. “Lord, these people are unbelievable…” he groaned.

“Well perhaps if you had let the man get a word in…” Francis sighed and took a seat beside him. “Though I admit, I never thought we would have to make a call like this. It’s all new ground from here, non?” he chuckled, smoothing his hair back with one hand. Physically, he was just as tired as Arthur, but one look at the nation was enough to tell him that his Arthur was nothing short of emotionally exhausted. His hands covered most of his face, and what he could see of his lips were pressed into a thin line. “Angleterre?”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this…” he muttered, lowering his hands to reveal weary eyes. “None of this, none of it was supposed to happen. Our first meeting was supposed to be wonderful and pure and perfect, like when you met Canada…”

“England…”

“I had plans, you know.” He didn’t give Francis a chance to stop him. “Three hundred years ago, I had everything plotted out. I was going to bring home a sweet little child- no, a little angel, just like you did. I had a house built in Virginia, I was going to take him there and raise him to be a perfect colony. I would have cooked for him, ordered toys and playthings, I would have spoiled that child rotten if I had only gotten the chance…” Arthur sucked in a breath, letting his eyes slip shut. “Why did things have to end up like this instead?”

“England, you’re talking like you think this is somehow your fault.” Francis moved over, pulling Arthur in to rest his head on his shoulder. “He never appeared to us, there was nothing we could do. For all we know, he might not have even been around then.”

“But if he was.” Arthur groaned. “If he was and I wasn’t there, then that was bad enough. How did any of _this_ even happen? How did it get to the point where I did… _that_?” He gestured towards the coffee table. His knife sat on top of a napkin, still stained with blood. “How was I supposed to know that I was looking my little angel in the face that whole time? My god, I might never have gotten to meet him at all. He might have just… just gone right on past me, and I would’ve never known the difference!”

“But that isn’t what happened.” Francis propped him up. “He is here now. He’s here and he’s right down the hall, and he should be up any minute.”

“But what if he doesn’t need me now?” Arthur looked up at him, eyes wide with worry. “What if he doesn’t want anything to do with me after all of this?”

“Well, you’re never going to know if you just sit around here fretting about it.” Francis frowned. “Your angel may be grown up, but right now he’s two doors away and he’s probably never going to need the support more than he does now. If you are going to go make amends, go make them now.” Arthur stared at him for a long minute, silent, then sighed.

“I suppose you’re right.” he muttered. “I don’t know what, but I’ve got to go say something to him… and he’s going to need to change out of those bloody clothes.” Arthur slowly stood and went to his bags, going through them until he dug out a rolled-up set of pajamas. “Hopefully he’s calmed down a little since we brought him up. I imagine I won’t get very far if he’s still having a panic attack in there.”

“It has been almost an hour.” Francis pointed out, going to Arthur’s side as he stood. He pulled him close and kissed him on each cheek, then looked him in the eye. “Things are going to work out, Angleterre. You’ll have your angel someday.” He mustered up a weak smile, hoping he could get the same from Arthur. The most he got was barely a twitch of the lips.

“Thank you, France.” Arthur gave him a pat on the shoulder and started towards the door. He hesitated a moment, his hand hovering just above the knob, before he proceeded through it into the hall. “I’ll be sure to tell you how it goes.”

“I’ll be right here.” Francis grinned as he watched him go. “If we’re lucky, our little family might gain a member tonight…”


	8. Bonus II

The war was coming to an end. Not that it was the kind of war that could be ended with the signing of papers and a few well-placed handshakes, but the past few years had seen a surprising change in the enemy. The destruction of the Wall was perhaps not the most surprising, but as he watched it, Alfred decided that it was probably one of his favorite parts. People were happy and proud and free, and even if they weren’t his people he could feel their excitement through the television screen. The enemy was losing- no, they had practically already lost. Sure, victory wasn’t a new feeling to him, but it was always good to know that freedom and democracy would win out against its enemies.

Perhaps that was part of the reason he was so hesitant to approach the ‘enemy’ sitting in the next room. He had been there for some time now, watching the screen with a blank expression on his face. Every television in the building was turned to the news so that they could watch the Wall being torn down. He might have expected him to be upset or angry or even afraid, but he looked perfectly calm. It was odd really, people had always told him that he was a big man, but he had never expected him to be quite so intimidating. He wasn’t just stocky, he had to be over six feet tall, easily towering over Alfred’s five-foot nine. He was a little hesitant to approach the guy at all, so he stood at the door for quite some time, clutching the neck of a bottle in his hands and watching the TV over his shoulder.

“I know you’re back there.” Alfred froze up. Without even turning to face him, the man had spoken. He gaped at him, trying to sneak away before he could see him. “I can see your reflection in the television screen.” He paused again. Could he get away with just leaving then and there, without saying anything to him? He definitely didn’t want to make this guy angry, but he had no idea what might set him off. Very slowly Alfred began to peer around the door frame. He could see the plain wallpaper, the gaudy artwork on the walls, the television set sitting opposite the long sofa, and the man on the sofa, who had turned away from the screen and was now staring straight back at him. Alfred hurriedly ducked out of sight again.

“You don’t have to hide, I’ve already seen you. You might as well come out.” he called. Alfred bit his lip, clutching the glass bottle in his hands. This was such a bad idea, he knew from the minute he saw the man that he was going to get himself in trouble trying to talk to him, but he just couldn’t resist the temptation. Without allowing himself another moment’s hesitation Alfred stepped into plain sight. Every alarm bell in his head was going off as he let the man look at him, every ounce of sense he had in him was telling him to just bolt, to just run as fast as his legs would take him and lock himself up in the furthest room he could find until their visit was over, but he just had to do this now. Who knew when he would get this chance again?

“Y-you’re…” Alfred managed to force himself to speak. The man was watching him, he had to say something. “You’re… Russia, right?” he asked. He didn’t think that the stiff, deer-in-the-headlights look he had on was helping him any, but to his surprise the man didn’t look bothered by it in the slightest.

“Yes.” He muttered. “I am… and I’m not going to bite your head off or anything, if that’s what they told you.”

“What?”

“You’re afraid of me.” Alfred blinked. He certainly hit that nail on the head. “Don’t deny it, everybody in this country is. I’ve gotten used to it.” Russia turned back to face the screen again, resting his head in his hand. Alfred hesitated, waiting for him to do or say something, and then slowly making his way towards the door…

“Come sit with me.” Once again he spoke without looking back. Alfred stared at him, wide-eyed. What was he supposed to say back? He tried to think of an excuse, whether it be one to accept or to decline, but his mind was still trying to process the request.

“Wh-what did you say?”

“Come sit, American boy.” Russia glanced back at him. “Sit. I have nothing to do as long as I’m here, and neither do you. Come sit.” Alfred stood gawking like an idiot for a moment. He barely even realized that his feet were taking him to the sofa until he was already there, sitting just a few feet away from him. He was stuck between wanting to be there and wanting to run, but the hundreds of questions buzzing around in his head kept him from trying to leave yet. He only wished he could muster up the courage to ask any of them. For now he was just sitting there, staring down at the ugly carpet and clutching the bottle in his hands.

“What have you got there?” Alfred looked up, startled to see the way Russia was looking at him. It was strange seeing him up close, he could actually pick out more than a sour frown or his prominent nose. He had sharp features and weary, lavender-colored eyes that watched with the patience and gentleness of someone who wished only for a long-awaited peace. Alfred was so caught up in being close to one of the nations that he almost forgot they had been speaking.

“What? Oh, um, this?” He glanced down at the soda bottle in his hands, scrambling to remember the lie he had come up with earlier. “My, er… the boss, he um, he told me to bring you a drink or something.” Alfred hastily shoved the bottle at him. “I wasn’t sure what you would want, so I just went with regular Coke…” he mumbled, daring a glance up at him. Russia looked surprised and a little amused, taking the bottle from his trembling hands and looking it over.

“I would not be seen drinking this… capitalist filth.” he muttered. Alfred’s face fell. He took back his hand and quietly tucked it into his lap, more than a little embarrassed.

“That’s fine.” He spoke up quickly. “I mean, I guess it was kinda presumptuous of me to just buy you soda, you don’t have to drink it if you don’t--” He was cut off by the hiss of the bottle as Russia pried off the cap, setting it aside and taking a small sip. Alfred stared, utterly confused by what he was seeing. “But I thought you said…?”

“I said that I wouldn’t be seen drinking it.” Russia spoke as he lowered the bottle, casting his gaze towards Alfred with a flicker of mischief in his eyes. “So you had better not be watching me while I do. My superiors might not be happy to know I took this from you.”

“Oh!” Alfred perked right back up, hurriedly averting is gaze but not bothering to hide his little grin. It was supposed to be humorous, right? He sure hoped so. He could see Russia’s reflection in the television screen, and how he seemed like he might have chugged the bottle if it weren’t for the carbonation. “…how is it?” he asked. Russia took a moment to respond, likely trying to get around the burning feeling that first-time soda drinkers were so prone to feeling.

“Very different from what we have back home… although after all the time I’ve spent there, it’s not a bad change.” All the same he set the bottle down beside his feet. “Is it alcoholic?”

“No, it shouldn’t be.” Alfred replied- although the idea of alcoholic soda sounded like a dream come true, considering how nasty all alcoholic drinks were to him. “I don’t think they sell alcohol in this building... not that I’d be able to buy it if they did, I’m only nineteen.”

“Nineteen?” Russia repeated, his eyebrows raised. Alfred looked over at him.

“Uh, yeah… well, at this point it’s probably closer to nineteen and a half, ‘cuz it’s November, my birthday’s in July…”

“You struck me as older.” The man’s lips turned up in a smile. Alfred froze, his own grin faltering. That comment was likely the most unsettling part of their entire encounter. Did he know? He couldn’t, Alfred had been so careful not to give himself away! What could he have done? “I didn’t know they let people so young work here.” He added.

“Heh, yeah, well… times are a-changin’ as they say.” Alfred forced a weak laugh, locking his gaze back onto the ground. Weighing the risks against the possibility of some gained knowledge, he knew what he had to do. “Um… I uh, I should probably be getting back to work now.” He mumbled, starting to pull himself up.

“So soon?” Russia asked. His disappointment was obvious, and it actually surprised Alfred how much he seemed to want him to stick around. “I suppose your work is more important than entertaining me … go on then, American boy.” Alfred stared at him for a moment. Temptation was eating at him to do something, to _say_ something crazy. If he told Russia, would he understand? They were longtime enemies, but things were supposed to be settling down, right? And now that he was becoming a world superpower, he was becoming more and more desperate to truly meet all of the nations he was supposed to be interacting with. It would have felt so good to just let everything spill out to somebody, even to the most risky person he could possible tell…

“Yeah, okay.” Alfred turned and started off, speeding up with every step he took. What was he thinking?! He couldn’t go and tell Russia who he was, it was far too dangerous! He’d get into trouble if his boss found out that he had even spoken to him, let alone that he had considered giving away his identity to their recently former enemy. Alfred sighed, hesitating a moment outside the door and looking back at him. Russia was still enamored with the soda bottle, now half-empty, but giving no sign that he could still see Alfred. “Someday...” Someday, he’d tell all of them who he was and let the weight of the truth fall from his own back… but not today.

 

\--

 

Alfred was grinning as he stepped out of the meeting room. Arthur followed him close behind, trying to simultaneously make sure that Alfred had gotten everything he needed during the meeting and reassure him that he had done a fine job with the whole thing.

“You did very well for your first time, Alfred. Now, it would be wise for you to compare notes with someone to make sure that you have everything down. I would volunteer myself, perhaps during the lunch break? That is, if you’d like to follow me out.”

“Yeah, sounds great!” Alfred was still amazed at how well everything had gone. He had been nervous, that much he could admit, but it was so worth it to be there after almost a century of missing out. It was just as good- no, even better than he had imagined. He had shaken so many hands that his wrists were starting to ache before the meeting was halfway through, however, and being surrounded by that many voices and arguments made his ears ring. For once, he longed for a moment away from the action. “Hey, uh, do you mind if I run to the bathroom real quick?”

“Oh, of course not.” Arthur replied. “I’ll meet you outside then?”

“Awesome. I’ll just be a minute.” Alfred smiled and started off in the opposite direction, glad to find that his slight headache was starting to subside. He was sure he’d get used to it, and he wouldn’t trade the experience in for anything else in the world, but it was still bugging him. He took a seat on a bench a little ways down the hall, rubbing his temples to disperse the tension.

“It’s more hectic than you imagined, isn’t it?” Alfred looked up, a little surprised to find lavender-colored eyes looking down at him.

“Oh, hey Russia.” Alfred sat up, putting on a small smile.

“You may call me Ivan, if you would like.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather call you Russia.” he chuckled. To his relief, Ivan smiled along with him. “Hey, uh, me and England are going to go grab some lunch. You wanna come with us?” he asked. Ivan shook his head.

“I’m afraid I already have plans, actually. I just came to return a favor.” Ivan took something from behind his back and handed it to Alfred. It was a bright red soda can, still semi-cold from the vending machine. “I think we both know that your boss had nothing to do with it, ‘American boy’…” Alfred’s eyes snapped up from the can.

“You knew?” he murmured.

“No.” Ivan chuckled and shook his head. “But I almost wish I had. I feel it would have been good for us to know each other, even after the war was finished.” Alfred sat staring at him for a moment. He knew exactly what Ivan meant; as a nation, it was very difficult to go through something like a war without having that single entity he could hate, and the single person he could reconcile with when it was all over. Just going off of his own experiences with war not being able to interact with the others, he could only imagine what it was like for them not even knowing that he existed.

“…yeah, it probably would have made things easier.” Alfred muttered. He caught himself smiling and stood up. Funny, he still found Ivan intimidating after all that time- the guy still had a good six inches on him! Alfred looked up at him, patting him on the shoulder. “Listen, I kinda told England that I’d be out there in like, a minute or two, but we definitely gotta hang out sometime, okay?” Ivan seemed a little surprised by the offer, but all the same he smiled.

“Yes, perhaps.” He placed his hand over Alfred and gently removed it. “If you can find the time with all the introductions you’ll be making, I would be happy to meet you somewhere.”

“Dude, I can make time for that!” Alfred laughed, starting off down the hall again. “Talk to you later man!”

“Yes, I’ll see you in an hour.” Ivan waved to him as he left, watching until he was around the corner and out of sight. He sighed to himself, continuing on in the direction he’d been going before he spotted Alfred. “America is so naïve…” he mumbled to himself. As silly as he thought Alfred had been in person, however, he found himself with a smile on his face. “ ‘Make time,’ he says… But his attitude is refreshing. If he will see me, I suppose I can set aside some time myself."


	9. Bonus III- The Last One

It was December when I first met Private Jones.

It’s hard to pin down exactly what draws you to a person like Jones. It could have been his attitude, the fact that he was the only person there who didn’t seem to mind being in his underwear while waiting to get his physical. Maybe it was the way he grinned despite the chilling bite of the Brooklyn winter. Heck, maybe it was just his natural charisma. There was an infectious confidence to him that was hard to ignore. He was the kind of person that anyone would naturally want to be around, even in the awkward situation of being stuck next to him in line to the check in counter in nothing but your underwear. Even amongst the dozens of men crowding the counter to get their enlistment papers checked he was smiling, making conversation, and generally endearing himself to the whole of the room.

I still don’t know how I managed to catch his eye. He seemed perfectly happy talking to the man in front of him and those in the other lines to either side of him. I would later learn that he was the type of person who tended to look optimistically forward at all times; it’s possible that he just took a while to notice there was anyone behind him at all. He actually looked a little surprised to see me standing behind him, albeit no less pleased.

“Can you believe this place?” It took me a moment to realize that he was the one talking. Hardly anyone had spoken to me since I came in, but now I was being confronted with a cheery grin that seemed out of place in the small, cold room. “Crazy, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Being here, of course!” He made a wide gesture to the whole of the room. Taking in my obvious lack of understanding, he lowered his arms, still grinning like a fool. “Eh, maybe I’m the only one feeling it… my name’s Alfred, by the way.” He seemed content to give me a proper greeting, extending his hand the few inches we had between us. “Alfred F. Jones.”

“What’s the F stand for?” I asked, giving his hand a firm shake. If I had known a simple question could make a man so giddy, I might have asked it sooner.

“Why, Freedom of course!” he replied just a little too loudly. Perhaps it was appropriate that a young man applying for the marines- especially at a time like this- to say such a thing. Some of the others around us laughed, others rolled their eyes. I honestly couldn’t tell whether or not he was joking, but as I would come to know Jones I would learn that he wasn’t the sort to make things up. At least, it never seemed that way. “What about you, you got a name?”

“Charles. Charles Young.”

“Charles, huh? Mind if I call you Charlie?”

“Well, I don’t—”

“Great!” He clapped me on the shoulder. I considered correcting him, but at that moment the line decided to start moving and his name was called, and he hurried over to get to his physical. Jones was an odd bird, really; we were all enlistees, men who were there because we put ourselves there, but out of all the men in the room I don’t think anybody was remotely as thrilled to be there as he was. I couldn’t help but wonder what would become of him when he got out onto the battlefield. I was young too, but even I could tell that his bright-eyed innocence weren’t going to last forever.

\---

Boot camp was like hell. I don’t know how I survived past the first week, and looking back I’m still not sure how anyone did it. From the moment we got up in the morning to the moment we hit the hay they had us doing something: running, jumping, climbing, shooting, eating, crawling, marching, saluting, sweating, bleeding, crying; it was always something. For the most part I would just put my head down and try to power through it, letting things happen and doing all I could to block out what was going on around me. There were rare moments where my head breached the surface of clear thought and the realization of what I was actually doing came crashing down onto me, often at the worst times. I remember only a few of those moments now, and the ones I do remember were the times that made me want to cry or give up. To top it all off, I missed having hair.

By that point, I had almost forgotten about Jones. I hadn’t seen him since that first day back in Brooklyn, and I had no idea which training camp he had ended up in. Thankfully I didn’t have the displeasure of running into him during that first week, or else I may have just broken down entirely. Perhaps it would have been better to have someone by my side through all of that, but for whatever reason I found myself terribly afraid of disappointing him.

When I did see him again, I was surprised by just how much I recognized him. He wore the same sunny grin, and gave me the same look of delight as he took a seat beside me in the mess hall. I was so relieved to see a semi-familiar face that I didn’t even notice he sat down uninvited.

“Charlie!” he greeted me, adjusting his hat to keep it from falling over his eyes. “Long time no see! It was Charlie, right?”

“I--well yes, but I don’t--”

“Thought so!” He shoveled a bite of food into his mouth, as if it didn’t taste like cardboard stewed in dishwater. “You know, I didn’t think I’d ever see anyone I recognized in this place. I mean, I’m meetin’ tons of new people all the time, but nobody I knew from before.”

“I think that’s typical, actually.”

“No joke?” He raised his eyebrows, looking around the room. “Huh… that explains a lot.” I didn’t understand this man. I hadn’t gotten to know any of the other men at the exam office, and I spoke to very few men here in camp. Why Jones expected to recognize anyone is beyond me. It seemed like an odd sentiment to hold for a bunch of people he had no attachment to. “Hey, what am I talking about? You’re here!” I stared at him for a moment, unsure of whether or not he was being serious.

“We only met the once at the exam office.”

“Yeah!”

“But… we only spoke _once._ ”

“Yeah.”

“You mean to say you think one meeting makes us friends?” I was incredulous at that point. Here was a man I had met only once in my life talking as if we had known one another for ages. I thought he might laugh or roll his eyes, or even get angry, but he didn’t. If anything he looked surprised, and a little confused.

“Well… not friends, I guess, but… I mean, I recognized you, so I thought…” His gaze dropped. It was one of the only times I saw him with anything but a beaming smile, but the stricken look on his face was still juvenile enough to make me feel bad about letting him down. “Am I… bothering you?” he asked, lowering his voice.

“No, no, it’s not that,” If it was a lie, I didn’t have the heart to admit it to myself. “I’m just not sure if you can call that a friendship is all. I mean, I barely know anything about you.”

“Oh, is that all?” he asked, slipping back into his perky, easygoing grin. “If you told me you just wanted to get to know me, you could have said so!”

“Well, you would have to know me too, of course.”

“Oh, right, of course!” He straightened up. “I don’t know anything about you! I barely even know your name, Charlie! Let’s see… you’re from New York, right?”

“Brooklyn, yes.”

“Yeah, me too!” He nodded and shoveled another bite of food into his mouth, swallowing it almost entirely before he tried to speak again. “Great place, Brooklyn. You live there long?”

“About fifteen years.”

“Hey, same here!” He laughed, taking a big gulp of whatever we were drinking- it was probably water. I was a little reluctant to take that answer at face value, as I got the impression he was lying to me. I had no idea why, or if he was being sarcastic or not, but I had a hard time internalizing that after what they put us through at this camp, anyone could have such a genuinely positive attitude.

“Well, it might have been less than that, I haven’t really been counting. I just know it’s the better part of my life.”

“Yeah?” He looked up from his tray, scarfing down whatever he had just taken a bite of to get another question out faster. “How old are you anyway?”

“Seventeen.” I replied without even waiting for him to finish. He looked at me, a little surprised. If he sensed I was lying, he didn’t show it. He only smiled and bumped me with his elbow.

“Yeah, me too, Charlie.” He said knowingly, going back to stuffing his face. “Heh… funny how these things work out, huh?”

“Yeah…” I murmured. I got the impression that he was lying again, but I couldn’t imagine why; even through his almost childish attitude, I could tell he was at least older than me, certainly old enough to enlist if he wanted to. Sadly, I never got the chance to ask him about any of that, as the drill sergeants were coming through to drag us off to whatever exercise they had planned next. Alfred was up immediately, having cleaned his plate when I wasn’t looking.

“Hey, I’ll see you around, Charlie!” He assured me with a clap on the shoulder, heading off towards one of the exits. It wasn’t until he was gone that I realized I still knew nothing about him.

\---

I honestly didn’t expect to see Jones again after that. Sure, I saw him in passing once or twice, picking out his face in crowds or in the mess hall, but we didn’t speak again after that one meal. It seemed even less likely once we were deployed, when I was sent to France and he was sent God knows where. I would be lying if I said I forgot about him, but as soon as I arrived I lost the energy to think about him, more focused on things like running, shooting, and not dying.

There was never a quiet moment for us. Rare moments of rest were often loud and even rowdy as men smoked and played cards together. It made me wish I had brought another book- or had thought to ask my mother to send another one for me. Blackjack was all well and good, but I would have preferred an extra hour to read, write, or sleep, and the company of the other men grew draining after a while. If I was truly exhausted and couldn’t stand to sit alone with the others for any longer I would occasionally make an excuse to leave. It wasn’t like I could go anywhere, but if it was safe I’d usually just wander a bit, looking around the other tents and trying to figure how everyone else was getting along when forced into the company of others for so long.

I didn’t mean to wander so far from my own tent. I didn’t even realize I was somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be until I heard raised voices coming from one of the bigger tents and, upon glancing inside, noted the familiar uniform of one of the British officers, albeit obscured by an awful mess of bandages. There was no way they would want me hearing any of what they were saying, it sounded too serious and official to be meant for common ears. I might have turned and jogged back to my own tent if I hadn’t noticed I wasn’t the only unwanted eavesdropper on their conversation. Had I been told I would meet him again like this I wouldn’t have believed it, and yet there he was, standing at the very edge of the tent flap, peering around it whenever he thought it safe.

“Jones?” He jumped and spun around, wide-eyed and pale in the face. “Jones, what the hell are you--” In an instant he had his hand over my mouth and was pulling me away, until we were around the corner of the tent and out of view in the bushes. Try as I might I couldn’t get his hand away from my mouth, even as the British officer inside stepped out to see who had been talking. Only when he started back in did Jones loosen his grip. I promptly yanked his hand away, taking a step away before he could replace it.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed, taking a step away. “They’ll have your head if they catch you listening in on them, Jones, are you crazy? …are you a spy?”

“No, no!”

“Are you trying to make a run for it?”

“God no!” He had the sense to keep his voice down but he still looked worried, more so than I’d ever seen him- not that I had a lot of experience to go off of. “I was just… look, it’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it, Charlie…”

“That’s not-- oh, whatever. Why were you spying on the officers’ tent?”

“I told you, I wasn’t spying!” He snapped, brows furrowed. “It’s just… I know some of the people in there, and I wanted to know what they were talking about.”

“If you know them, then why can’t you just go in and talk to them?”

“Well, er…” He paused, as if he were trying to think up a lie. He still wasn’t a very good liar, that I found, but I couldn’t figure for the life of me why he was lying at all. “The thing is, they don’t actually know _me_ …”

“So you were spying?” My eyes narrowed. He pursed his lips, glancing back and forth between me and the tent. If he wasn’t lying, then I was very curious as to what kind of truth he was telling.

“…look, just don’t tell anyone you saw me here, okay?” he whispered, starting away from the tent in the hopes that I would follow. “It’s hard to explain, but it’s really, really important to me… just trust me when I say that I’m not up to anything, alright?” He extended his hand, giving me a small, hopeful smile. “I mean, do you really think anyone would hire _me_ as a spy?” Through his goofy grin I could tell he was still anxious. All I needed to do was make a sound, to shout or scream or do something to draw their attention. I knew it, and I could tell he did to. It would have been incredibly easy to get him caught in that moment, possibly even discharged. It would have been the last I heard from Jones, the stranger from the enlistment office, the man who refused to call me by my own name. Then again, he was one of the only people there who ever bothered to speak it.

“…you’re too poor of a liar to make a good spy.” I admitted. He visibly relaxed, returning to his natural grin and reaching over to clap me on the shoulder.

“You’re not wrong about that, Charlie.” He laughed, hurrying me away from the tent with a mournful glance back towards it. “God knows you aren’t wrong about that…” I could hear the longing in his voice. I still have no idea what about that tent was so appealing to him, but I could tell he would much rather have been there listening in on them than he would have been walking with me, and I got the feeling that if I hadn’t shown up, he would have stayed there until he really had been caught.

\---

I don’t think any part of training could prepare us for what war was really like. All of the same components were there; running and shooting, hiding and crawling, sweating and bleeding. Being there in person, however, was very different. To know that at any moment I could be shot or stabbed or blown to bits was a horrifying experience, even more so when it was all real and in my face. I think the only way I made it through any of that was by not thinking. My mind was entirely blank as I watched the head of the man sitting beside me explode in a spray of blood that coated the men in front of him, and as I was forced to climb over his body as we piled out of the truck- although I got the feeling Jones was slightly more resilient to the sight.

I did take in the orders as they were shouted to us by our commanding officer, though I’m not sure now whether or not I followed those orders. We were all running for cover wherever we could find it, but only the bravest men thought immediately to try and shoot back. I don’t remember seeing their corpses, but I didn’t see them after that impromptu battle either, so it’s safe to assume I just didn’t look very hard. I was running for my life, after all, and if I hadn’t been focused on that I may never have found that small piece of wall to hide behind, nor would I have known that Jones made it out of the scuffle alive. I saw him run past, not seeming to see me sitting against the wall. I hardly paid him any mind at first, as I was too busy trying to still my hands for long enough to load my gun. I had no intention of jumping out into the open, but I wanted to be prepared incase someone came after me.

I heard a howl of pain and looked over my shoulder. It was Jones, writhing on the floor while trying to fight an enemy soldier away from his face. My hands shook as I took aim and shot the man, first in the neck and then the head, before rushing over to help him. He pressed a hand over his eye, blind to the blood seeping through his fingers until he pulled it away. He couldn’t have gotten more than a glimpse of whatever was in his palm before frantically shaking it off and, with great reluctance, putting it back over his face.

“Jones!” I hissed, running to meet him as soon as it was safe. His head whipped around, his good eye gone wide in shock. “Jones, what did--”

“ _Stop._ ” I did. I had never heard him speak so forcefully. It was as if the word itself had nailed my feet to the ground, and I stood uncertain of how to react. “You need to keep going.” He turned to look at me. Beneath his wrist I could see a clear fluid leaking through the blood, leaving a viscous trail in its wake.

“Wh-- Jones, your eye, it’s--”

“It’s fine.” He snapped at me, reaching around with his good hand for something he could push himself up on. “They need you out there, Charlie, just go. I-I’m gonna be fine.”

“But--”

“ _Go!_ ” The nails were prised free, and with only a moment’s hesitation I turn and ran. If I didn’t know better, I might say he seemed desperate to get rid of me, as if there were something under that hand he didn’t want me to see. At the time I didn’t think much of it, but as the war progressed it seemed that the gesture had been unnecessary; I would see far worse than a man having his eye gouged out before the war was over, and looking back I really wish I had done more to help. After all, that wasn’t exactly how I imagined my last meeting with the mysterious Alfred Freedom Jones.

\---

 

The cool November air made me wish I had brought a thicker coat to the museum. I had reached for one on my way out the door, but with my little great-granddaughter pulling at my arm, pleading me to hurry out to the car so we could get going already, I managed to forget all about it. The car was warm, as were the bright smiles of the sweet little child in the car seat beside me as she insisted I try to beat her high score at Ipad. I lost a couple of times on purpose just to pass the thing back to her, intent on taking in the scenery while I had the chance. I would never tire of seeing Washington DC every day, nor would I ever grow bored with the changing of the seasons, the vibrant reds and golds that made the streets of the capital city glow with color and life.

It seemed that only minutes had passed before we stopped again, and I was being helped out of the backseat and onto the sidewalk. The cold tended to keep people inside and away from museums and other such places, but for today they would come out to appreciate the legacy of their country, to appreciate those fighting men who had given their lives. More than seventy years had passed since I had seen the battlefield, but not even I could help the swell of pride in my heart as I gazed up at the American flag flying over the entrance to the museum.

“Grampa Charlie, let’s go inside!” I looked down, a smile tugging at my lips as I led the sweet little girl up the steps of the building.

“Alright Anne-Marie, just give me a moment…”

“That’s not my name, Grampa, I’m Rebekkah!”

“Hm?” I raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t the first time I had mistaken her for my own daughter. The resemblance between the two was uncanny, though my Anne-Marie had long since grown up. I managed to laugh it off, holding the door open for her and the rest of the family until my daughter came and took it off my hands.

“Thank you Susan, you’re such a dear.”

“Dad, I’m Anne-Marie.”

“Oh, you girls…” I chuckled, shaking my head in exasperation as we stepped into the museum. It was all too familiar to me now. I had been coming to this museum invariably for over fifty years, and I knew it like the back of my hand. Granted the exhibits had changed since the very beginning, I knew where to find my old favorites.

Within minutes I had wandered away from the group. It wasn’t as though they expected anything else at this point; I had a habit of wandering off in these places, to the degree that they would know where to look when they realized I was gone. In truth, I didn’t mind the lack of attention. I preferred my own pace to theirs or even that of the tour guides. They always wanted to move quickly and see everything, rushing everyone around the museum only to dump them off in the gift shop at the end. There were really only a couple of things I wanted to see anyway, most of which were on the third floor. For a short, blissful while the exhibit was empty, and I took my time walking from plaque to plaque, reading each one and taking a moment to examine the objects on display. I had only just finished the display on Sergeant Stubby when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Excuse me, sir?” I glanced up. A young man, a tour guide by the looks of it. He was handsome enough to have stepped right out of one of the exhibits, though the glasses sitting crooked on his face wouldn’t have lasted five minutes on the battlefield. He seemed surprised when I turned to face him, as if he thought I was some sort of ghost.

“Can I help you?” I asked. It seemed to snap him from his daze, and in an instant he was all smiles again, his blue eyes bright and brimming with life.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” He laughed, leaning his elbow on the railing. “I’m just kidding. You look like you’re doing just find for your age, huh old-timer?” I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I felt like I should have been offended by this, and a part of me was, but the way he said it was so casual and genuine that I wondered if I had met this young man before. I looked him over for a nametag but found only a sticker with the name “Alfred” scribbled on it in thick red pen.

“Alfred, correct?” I looked up, taking his brilliant grin as confirmation. “Hmm… Were you named for your Grandfather?”

“Grandfather?” Alfred cocked his head, crossing his arms over the railing “That’s uh, highly unlikely... Why do you ask?”

“No reason really. You just remind me of someone I used to know back in the day.”

“Oh, really?” He raised his eyebrows at me, somehow amused by all of this. “Well, what’s your name? I could ask if he knows it when I get the chance.” 

“Charles Young.”

“Charles, huh?” I could swear he was fighting back a grin. “Heh, mind if I call you Charlie?” At this I couldn’t help but laugh. Alfred joined me in an instant, filling the room with his infectious laughter as though it were some grand inside joke between the two of us. I reached up and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Only my grandchildren call me Charlie these days.” I chuckled, leaning against the railing that stood between us and the display. “Eh, why not? You don’t look too much younger than them anyway, so I suppose it’s alright.” People had been calling me Charlie for as long as I could remember, to the point where it no longer bothered me. This seemed to surprise my young friend. Had he not expected me to agree? Maybe he did this to all the veterans who walked through the exhibit and simply wasn’t used to having us go along with his teasing. Regardless of what it was I opted not to mention it, glancing around the exhibit. “Do you work here, Alfred?”

“Huh?” He blinked, turning his eyes back onto me. “Oh, no, I just volunteer here a lot. I’ve got kind of a thing for American history, and they typically need extra help on long weekends like these, so I like to come if I can.”

“Ah, I see.” I nodded slowly. “I wish more young people felt the same way. It’s so rare to see kids these days taking an interest in history.”

“Oh yeah, they love me here. I’ve been doing this for like, ever.” He grinned, gazing around the room. “I like to poke around up here before all the guests arrive. The forties were pretty crazy, huh? Man, we’ve had color TV for so long now that I can’t even remember what it was like before that…” I raised an eyebrow at him, turning to look him over again.

“You talk as if you were there yourself…” I muttered, earning another quick glance from the young tour guide. He looked as though he were about to speak but stopped, resigning himself to another small grin.

“Too many old movies, I guess.” He chuckled. “Like I said, I’m kind of a history nerd. You could say I’ve lived through a lot of different time periods.”

“Is that right?” I couldn’t help sounding a bit skeptical. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing wrong with being able to enjoy history. Lord knows I enjoyed mine, but as they say there’s no time like the present. I wouldn’t give up my little girls for anything.” I smiled at the thought of them. I could tell he was looking at me, but I felt little need to look back. “You’ll understand when you’ve got a family of your own someday.”

“I--” He cut himself short. For a moment I thought he had gotten distracted by something else, but when I looked over I caught him looking away, struggling to keep up a smile. “Heh… yeah, you know, maybe someday.” I paused for a moment, then, much to his surprise, laughed. “Is uh, something funny?”

“No, no, nothing.” I muttered, turning to face the exhibit again. “You just reminded me of someone I used to know back in the day.” I smiled to myself, looking in at the display case behind me. “Say, young man, did I ever catch your name?”

“I… it’s…” He fumbled with his words for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I guess you didn’t” He managed to affix his face with a plastic grin, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes; he had shut down already, the glimmer of hope in his eyes having died out as he looked me over again. “It was--”

“Dad!” I turned, looking to see who was shouting. “Dad, we talked about this. If you’re going to wander off, you need to at least text us so we know where you are.”

“Why? You obviously know where to look already if you checked here first.” I chuckled. “Anne-Marie, you worry too much.”

“I’m Susan, dad. See, this is exactly why we can’t have you running off!” She sighed, glancing around the exhibit room. “Were you talking to someone, dad?”

“Ah…” I stopped to glance around, having forgotten myself. As far as I could see the room was empty, and quiet save for the faraway ‘ding’ of the elevator down the hall. “No, I suppose I wasn’t.”

“I could have sworn I heard voices in here.” She frowned, peering around the nearest wall. “Huh… whatever, it’s not important. You promised Rebekkah you’d show her Stubby when we made it up here. She’s intent on hearing it from you, you know.”

“What, that old dog? I could tell her stories a million times better than that from my own life. I remember back in ’44, they sent us into France to recover a lost paratrooper who--”

“Dad, no, that’s the plot of ‘Saving Private Ryan.’”

“What?”

“You were in the marines, remember?”

“Oh, yes, that’s right…” I frowned, following her to the elevator. “They did a good job on that movie, all the attention to detail--”

“I know, dad, I know. We all know how realistic you think ‘Saving Private Ryan’ is.” she muttered, leading me into the elevator. I must have looked absolutely stricken at that, because the next time she looked at me her eyes softened with guilt. “I’m sorry, dad, I didn’t mean to snap at you. Just stay with the group, okay?”

“Yes, Susan, I know.” I smiled to make her feel better, watching the numbers above the elevator door go down as we began our descent. I couldn’t expect her to understand, I doubt anyone who hadn’t seen it with their own eyes could ever really know why it made me so happy. In truth, I was probably the only one in the whole building who knew what it was like to really be there.


End file.
